Dollhouse
by Silk Lily
Summary: I lived my life as a doll, with no purpose but to be put on a shelf and gather dust. My reality was transparent, my life scripted, and my future set in stone. He was the one who brought colors to my glass existence and showed me how to live.
1. Scripted

Chapter One

Scripted

I lived my life as a doll.

As my father had so often told my sister and me, sons were for the advancement of the family fortune, and daughters were for forging connections. 'Forging connections', of course, referring to profitable marriages.

It was all worked out; for as long as I could remember, Desdemona had been engaged to some elder son of the Black clan. From what I had garnered from covert eavesdropping on my mother's afternoon teas with her high society pureblood friends, her next target when it came to marrying off her daughters was the poor boy's younger brother. I hadn't even met either of them—my future brother-in-law and (if my mother got her way) my future fiancée—but I took it in stride. After all, it was what I had been raised to do. It was what was expected of me.

These were my thoughts at the age of eleven.

"You know, you shouldn't listen to what your uncle says," My mother stated for the hundredth time, leaning over to more closely examine the maid as she pulled a comb through my long hair.

"I know, Mother." I said, keeping any inflection out of my voice.

"I mean, honestly. That comment about…" She pursed her lips distastefully, as if it gave her a headache to even repeat what her husband's brother had said.

I liked Uncle Oberon, although saying such a thing around my mother was unthinkable. He was somewhat of a family black sheep, and had no qualms about stating his opinions. About _everything_.

That afternoon at lunch—our family had been dining privately that day, something my mother was immensely relieved for—the subject of the Black boy had come up. Oberon had said something along the lines of "After so many years of inbreeding, I would think Desdemona's poor kids will be born with too many eyes or something."

My mother had flown into a rage at this blatant degradation of all the hard work the match had required (and it _had_ been a considerable amount of work, for reasons explained later).

"You know, our families have not even a drop of common blood between us," she said for perhaps the sixth time in as many minutes. She narrowed her eyes then, and snapped at the maid, "Oh, for Merlin's sake, give me that."

Stalking over to the vanity where I was sitting, she snatched the comb from the trembling maid, and directed her out of the room with a contemptuous gesture. The young witch gratefully scrambled out of the room, closing the mahogany door behind her with a muted snap.

"I swear, it's impossible to find good help these days," Mother groused, taking the comb to my already-combed hair with a vengeance.

I winced and nearly yelped at the tremendous pressure being applied to my scalp. But I bit my lip and bore the discomfort silently. A Selwyn didn't complain.

"So, I assume that you understand your place this evening, Callisto?"

I looked at my mother's reflection in the mirror. She wasn't looking at me, rather focusing on my hair. Next to her, my face looked pale and small.

"Yes. I'll make sure that Desdemona makes a good impression on Mr. and Mrs. Black."

"And remember…"

"Not to overwhelm my sister. Ensure that she is the center of their attention."

"But…"

"Ensure that they form a good impression of me as well."

Mother looked at me approvingly, her hands weaving their way skillfully through my hair, painfully pulling, twisting, and braiding. After a few more minutes of her silently arranging my hair, she drew her long, pale wand out of the pocket of her robes, and waved it in a gentle arc over my head. I felt my scalp tingle as the style-sticking charm settled into my hair.

"I'll leave you to get dressed. Please be downstairs within the half-hour."

And with that, she swept out of my room. If I hadn't been used to it, her impersonal treatment might have bothered me. But it didn't.

I stood up, not even caring enough to glance at the intricate updo my mother had created. The dress she had custom-ordered from Madame Malkin's was lying draped across my bed. It had a full, silver skirt, and a silky bodice cut of the same color. The trim and sash were both emerald green. I slid it on listlessly, settling the perfect-fitting fabric over my form.

I turned to regard myself in the full-length mirror set across the room. The colors of the dress seemed to sap the color from me; instead of complementing my blue eyes, the silver of the gown reduced them to a flat shade of slate-gray. The green clashed with the peaches-and-cream of my complexion, and my ordinarily gleaming gold locks looked ash-colored against the vivid sash.

Picking them up from the bed, I slid on my kid-skin gloves, smoothing them up over my elbows. When I looked at myself in the mirror once more, the image was complete; a small, pale, colorless doll, her only purpose to sit high up on a shelf looking beautiful and collecting motes of dust until the end of time.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I turned away from the mirror. Looking at the girl I saw in the glass terrified me too much.

Suddenly, my bedroom door flew open, and my sister tumbled into my room, looking the utter picture of despair.

"Callisto, help me! My hair won't settle, my makeup is all wrong, and I just don't know what to do!"

After a moment of stunned silence, I shook my head, and crossed the room to take hold of Desdemona's shoulders. I led her over to my vanity and sat her down in front of the mirror, even as she continued to chatter anxiously.

"You know, Callisto, the Blacks are one of the most…possibly _the _most prestigious family in the wizarding world! This marriage is _so _important to our family. What if Mr. and Mrs. Black dislike me? What if they think I'm uncouth, or not beautiful enough?"

She was becoming more frantic with every passing moment.

"Quiet." I said with a finality that induced her to close her mouth.

I quickly separated her dark hair into several sections and began braiding it into a complex French Plait. I worked in silence for a few minutes, until Desdemona simply couldn't stand it any longer.

"Callisto, what if they hate me?"

I sighed, completing a complicated knot and using a pin to fix it in place.

"Desdemona, you are a Selwyn. Although the Blacks may be wealthier, we are certainly on par with them when it comes to blood purity, if that's what you're worried about. You're undeniable lovely, and your mannerisms are impeccable. Mother has ensured of that."

My logical and methodical reasoning made it impossible for my sister to continue panicking. Slowly she began to calm down.

"I suppose you're right." She met my eyes in the mirror. "Anyway, with you there, nothing could possibly go wrong. You always seem to have an answer, little sister."

She gave me an affectionate peck on the cheek as I finished with her hair and she rose to her feet to leave my room.

"I'll be going down first. The guests have started to arrive by now, I'm sure. Don't take too long."

She swept out of my room, leaving behind the smell of the rose-scented soap we both used.

After a few minutes of adjusting my clothing and hair, I exited my bedroom. The distant sound of a string quartet was drifting through the hallway, coming from down in the grand ballroom.

I emerged into the shattering light of the ballroom, blinking like an owl; after the warm, dim lighting of the rest of the manor, the combined brilliance of dozens of crystal chandeliers, floating candles and various other sources of light was slightly shocking.

I immediately located Desdemona among the scintillating crowd of waltzing couples, gossiping matrons, and various other high-ranking members of pure-blood society. Her sleek gown of green silk caught and reflected light, and unlike me, the color complemented her milky skin and ebony hair perfectly.

I descended the spiral staircase with practiced ease, going widely unnoticed, much to my relief. I crossed the room to where my sister was talking with two strikingly beautiful young witches; one had heavily-lidded eyes, expertly colored with a dusky purple shadow. Her lips were full and bow-shaped, and her black hair fell in a thick, supple cascade down her back. Her companion had hair so pale it seemed to glow, and her figure was willow-like and graceful.

All three of them were laughing raucously at something the dark-haired beauty had said. After a moment, Desdemona noticed me, and wiped her mirth-filled eyes.

"Bella, Cissy, this is my little sister, Callisto. Callisto, these are my friends from school, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black."

I smiled at them, on meet-and-greet autopilot.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you two."

Narcissa's smile was well-meaning, if slightly patronizing. Her sister's was more of a smirk if anything.

"She looks just like you, Mona," Narcissa said.

"Really, you think so? Everyone says I look more like my mother, but…"

After that I mostly tuned out the girls' conversation, as they chattered about the impending arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Black, various people who attended Hogwarts, and boys.

"And then Lucius said…"

I tuned in just in time to hear Narcissa begin a long-winded tale about something her boyfriend, Lucius, had said, but she never had the chance to finish.

Desdemona turned white as she saw the two figures that had just entered the ballroom. Our parents were greeting the witch and wizard who were evidently Mr. and Mrs. Black.

"Does my hair look alright?" She demanded of Narcissa and Bellatrix, frantically straightening her gown and tucking flyaway curls behind her ears. She was rapidly growing flushed with nerves.

I quickly linked my arm with hers, providing something steady for her to lean on. My sister glanced at me gratefully, and then turned to Bellatrix and Narcissa regretfully.

"We have to go. I'll catch up with you two later."

"It was nice meeting both of you," I said politely, and Bellatrix smirked at me.

"Catch you at Hogwarts next year, Little Mona."

I smiled, keeping an expression of polite interest in place. That was me; always polite.

I led Desdemona in a stately glide across the room towards our parents and the Blacks. Her steps became more and more halting the closer we came to the four imposing figures. Suddenly she jerked to the left, darting into a tiny nook concealed in the spiral staircase. I was dragged along with her, and we were both instantly concealed from the four adults.

"Desdemona!" I protested, attempting to tug her back into the ballroom. She resisted.

"I can't, Callisto…" she whispered, her voice cracking with nerves. "I'm afraid."

"You're afraid of Mr. and Mrs. Black?" I asked, my eyes meeting hers unwaveringly. She glanced away from me before meeting my gaze once more.

"Well…yes. Aren't you?"

I raised my chin, and for a moment felt color flood into me. The gates I had been holding shut with all my mental strength cracked to let a few trickles of my true pugnacious nature flow through.

"I'm not afraid of anyone, Desdemona."

My sister's eyes widened in surprise at this uncharacteristic statement.

"Not even Father?" she asked softly.

I knew she didn't ask it to be cruel, but still I felt as if she were trying to undermine me.

"…not even Father."

*0*

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Black." Desdemona said, her voice the perfect, gentle cadence of a lady.

She swept her skirt into a neat, gentle curtsy, and Mrs. Black looked on approvingly. She was a pinched, dour-looking woman, with her dark hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to strain the skin around her temples. Her husband, a dark, intimidating man, was off somewhere discussing business matters with our father.

"Enchanté, Miss Selwyn." She said.

"I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Black," I said, meeting her eyes directly. I copied my sister's motion, although I didn't dip so low as Desdemona, nor were the flourishes of my skirt so elegant or flamboyant.

She studied me with a calculating expression. I got the feeling she was trying to intimidate me into averting my gaze. I refused to do so, continuing to steadily make eye contact. A tiny, mirthless smile graced her face after several moments of silence. She nodded cordially to me.

"And the same to you, Miss Selwyn."

She turned to my sister then, and I fell into my usual position at Desdemona's elbow.

"Miss Selwyn, if I am not mistaken, you are a third year at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, that's correct," My sister hurried to confirm, smiling a dazzling smile.

"And what house do you belong to?"

"Why, Slytherin, of course. Everyone in my family for hundreds of years has been in Slytherin."

Mrs. Black smiled tightly. There was some hidden peeve in her dark eyes, some personal irritation that I couldn't identify.

"The same if true for the Noble House of Black," she said, her tone clipped. "I myself was a Slytherin prefect in my time at Hogwarts."

"I hope to be a prefect once I reach fifth year," Desdemona quickly supplied. "I think that it is an excellent opportunity to contribute to the school."

I struggled not to let my façade of polite intrigue slip as my sister groveled before Mrs. Black. It was downright embarrassing to see my own flesh and blood reduced to practically selling herself to this woman.

It was only after a few more minutes of interrogation (disguised as polite conversation, of course) that Mrs. Black seemed to recall my existence.

"So, Miss Selwyn, you will be heading off to Hogwarts this fall, I assume?"

"Yes, that is correct."

I made sure to steadily meet her eyes. I had, painfully, observed how my sister's gaze had been darting every which way around the grand ballroom, focusing on anything as long as it wasn't Mrs. Black. I wasn't going to be so easily intimidated.

"And do you hope to be sorted into Slytherin, as well?" It was a rhetorical question of course. For a moment I longed to give in to my naturally rebellious personality. I longed to simply tell Mrs. Black that I wasn't sure Slytherin was right for me, that I thought maybe Ravenclaw would suit me better.

But I didn't.

"Naturally. It _is_, after all, the most prestigious house at Hogwarts."

Mrs. Black nodded. After all, it had been a rhetorical question.

As the meaningless chit-chat continued, the mindless ass-kissing, the attempts at impressing this cold, dark witch, I came to a realization.

The only questions anyone ever asked me where rhetorical. My answers were expected. My conversation was pre-determined. My friendships and future were already set in stone.

My life was scripted.

**Yup...so basically for a really long time I've been envisioning the ideal heroine in a Sirius/OC fic. And in my mind, she was a pureblood from an elitist family just like Sirius's. But...plot twist! Because I bet you can guess who "some eldest son of the Black clan" is. Yes, Desdemona is engaged to Sirius (regardless of what he thinks about it). And an match between Callisto and Regulus is evidently on her mother's mind...Anyway, so this is just an introduction. I'm not really sure where this story is going (whether it'll end up AU or what...) so I guess the reviews will let me know whether or not to continue. **

**Love,**

**Silk **


	2. Formidable

Chapter Two

Formidable

"What do you think of this color, Callisto?"

I looked up from my book, my hair falling behind my ears as my head shifted.

My sister was standing on the small dressing podium, turning every which way as she examined herself from various angles in the mirrors filling the fitting room.

"It makes you look too pale," I said of the lilac-colored dressrobes she was trying on.

Her lip descended in a pout and she crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're so mean, Little Sister!" She exclaimed, hopping down from the podium and allowing the dress-maker's attendant to help her out of the robes.

"If you just wanted me to compliment you, you should've said so in the first place," I retorted with mild exasperation, setting my book aside for the moment.

Desdemona ignored me, instead focusing on settling a pair of midnight blue robes onto her form. She gracefully ascended the podium once more, carefully examining her breath-taking visage.

"Ooh, I like these. What do you think, Callie?"

I winced at the nickname. She was probably calling me by my least favorite name just to get back at me for telling her—quite honestly, I might add—that the purple robes had made her look clammy.

"You look gorgeous," I told her. And it was the truth.

With her aristocratic features, ruby-red lips, and silky, endlessly long hair, Desdemona was the most beautiful girl I knew. And this was saying a lot; after all, her best friends, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, were two peerless beauties, and nearly all of our female cousins were very pretty to some extent.

Desdemona glowed at the praise, and descended from the podium.

"We'll take these," She told the dressmaker's assistant imperiously.

"Very well, Miss Selwyn, I will have to take your measurements." She replied demurely, pulling out her wand.

Fittings bored me to no end; I made a quick exit of the room. My sister was too intent on supervising the assistant to pay my absence much notice.

The VIP clients' floor of Twilfit and Tattings even _smelled _expensive; the scent of Wonder Witch's designer perfume mingled with the smell of leather and candles. The lighting was muted, and the racks and racks of hundred-galleon clothing seemed to stretch on forever.

I had already selected all of my clothing for the coming school-year; I opted for simpler, less expensive designs than Desdemona, and my fittings and clothing selection together had taken under forty-five minutes.

I aimlessly wandered through the labyrinth of clothing racks for a few more minutes, before I was distracted by the sound of voices.

"Sirius, you are being ridiculous."

The venomous voice of the woman speaking was very familiar, but I couldn't put my finger on who exactly it belonged to.

"I don't want any of this…silky, frilly, expensive shit, Mother."

That was the voice of a boy, and I was sure I hadn't heard it before. My eyes widened as I heard the sharp 'snap!' of flesh connecting with flesh.

"Don't let me ever hear you use such coarse language again, Sirius." the woman said coldly. "It is far beneath you."

"No, Mother, _you _are far beneath me," The boy said hotly, loud enough that I spotted a clerk across the store jump with surprise.

"Sirius Black, don't you _dare_ walk away from me," The woman said, her voice shaking with barely-suppressed rage.

Sirius…Black? Then I realized who the woman must be. I bit my lip, my eyes wide with fright. Surely Mrs. Black would be furious if she discovered I had been eavesdropping on their conversation. I could, in one fell swoop, ruin both my sister's and my own marriage prospects. Not that I would exactly be devastated if my mother's plans for me fell through, but Desdemona certainly would be.

I slipped away then, making my way back to the fitting room, where I shut the door behind me and silently returned to my seat, my heart still beating quickly from adrenaline. My family's reputation had narrowly been preserved.

Little did I know, however, that this was just the beginning of my quest to personally destroy said reputation.

*0*

"I think I'll stay a little longer."

Desdemona looked up at me from inside the sedan.

"What? Why?"

"Oh, well, there were a few books that I think I'll pick up at Flourish and Blotts." I lied smoothly, and my sister nodded distractedly.

"Alright, I'll have Hilda send a car for you around three thirty. I'm going over to Cissy and Bella's house. I might not be back until late. Tell Mother and Father for me, will you?"

"Ok," I agreed, stepping out of the way so that our driver could shut the door behind Desdemona.

I watched the sedan disappear around a corner, before turning around to face the colors and commotion of Diagon Alley. There hadn't really been any specific books I wanted at Flourish and Blotts; I simply didn't feel like returning to the manor.

I wandered along the cobbled path, not really paying attention to where I was going. It was that absent-mindedness that led to my first encounter with my sister's fiancé.

As I rounded a bend in a side-street, I collided with something unpleasantly solid. I reeled back a few steps, struggling to regain my balance. As I did, I realized that I had knocked that unpleasantly solid something on his arse.

"Oh. Sorry," I said insincerely.

The boy got to his feet, cursing loudly.

"Are you blind?" He snarled, unnecessarily rudely, I might add.

I actually paused thoughtfully, enjoying his expression of intense annoyance as I appeared to seriously consider the rhetorical question.

"Not the last time I checked. Although I could be wrong," I said, fighting to keep a smile out of my voice.

"Whatever," He grumbled shouldering past me in irritation. Suddenly, however, I heard a familiar voice.

"Sirius Black, you will come back here this instant!" A woman screeched from somewhere around the next bend.

My eyes widened in shock, and I stared at the boy in a new light; _he _was Sirius Black, the boy who had caused my sister to go to so much trouble to impress his parents.

"Oh, shit," He exclaimed, glancing around in panic. "Come on!" He exclaimed, pushing me into a narrow side-alley, before darting into it himself.

The imposing figure of Mrs. Black swept by the alley, not even glancing our way. She was followed by a slight, dark-haired boy who I guessed to be Regulus. He had to trot in order to keep up with his mother's long, determined strides.

Sirius gave vent to a loud exhale of relief as his family moved out of sight. And then his full attention fell on me. His eyes swept up and down my form, his gaze becoming more and more critical with every passing second. I was determined not to feel self-conscious; instead, I simply raised my chin a notch higher, and lowered my eyes to half-mast in an imperious look.

"Just my luck, running from one filthy-rich witch only to find another." He muttered, running a hand through his unkempt dark hair.

I narrowed my eyes in extreme annoyance.

I was wearing a knee-length skirt with a matching blazer, which was neatly buttoned over a starched, white collared shirt. I had opted out of the dress robes my sister generally wore, but I knew I still gave off the aura of the incredibly wealthy.

In contrast, Sirius was not at all what I had been expecting; most boys of my class wore their hair neatly combed and short, whereas his was just a touch too long and shaggy to be considered neat. He was wearing muggle clothes; a black t-shirt and too-big jeans, and he didn't look at all like the heir to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black. But still, it was ridiculous for him to persecute me for being wealthy, when his family had twice the means of mine.

"You're one to talk, Black." I said irritably, letting my bearing become even more imperious and proud.

He looked even angrier at this.

"Don't call me that." He snapped.

"Ashamed of your own family?" I retored, as quickly and venomously as a whip.

"Yes! Anyone would be ashamed to be a part of that cult."

He couldn't have said anything more ironic.

After all, my mother and sister wanted nothing more in this world than to be a part of that very family. I took a deep breath, prepared to answer with a biting remark. But I let that breath woosh out of me a moment later. I didn't have the heart. After all, he was right. Anyone _should _be ashamed to be a part of a family like his. A family like_ mine._

So I did the only thing I could do; I punched him.

There were various reasons for this act of violence; he had, however indirectly, just insulted my family, and as much as I disliked them at times, that was inexcusable. Secondly, I found his insufferable attitude irritating.

And thirdly…I was sick and tired of being polite.

*0*

A week later found me back in Diagon Alley. After punching Black, I had beaten a hasty retreat. I wouldn't have put it past him to hit me back, even if I was a girl. I had been walking on pins and needles for the past week; after all, if he ever found out who I was, and told his mother about the incident, my sister's marriage prospects would surely be wrecked.

Much to my mother's displeasure, Uncle Oberon was the one taking me to purchase my wand that day. She had tea with some of her high-society friends, and my father taking me out on such a menial errand was out of the question. So, reluctantly, she had accepted Oberon's offer to escort me to Ollivander's.

"I remember getting my first wand, you know," My uncle told me, hardly pausing in his quest to devour the ice cream he had bought for himself as we passed Florian Fortescue's. "The damned thing snapped clean in two my fifth year of Durmstrang, though. Fell off a cliff with it in my pocket," He explained when I looked at him questioningly.

That surprised a laugh out of me, and Oberon smiled, shaking his head nostalgically.

"Ah, those were the good old days, Li, back when my knee didn't creak every time I got on a broom…Ah, here we are. Ollivander's," He said, gesturing with one hand to the musty old shop we had arrived in front of.

He held the door open for me, and I slipped into the darkened shop, the tinkling of a bell echoing behind me. Oberon closed the door behind us, increasing the dimness inside the cramped antechamber.

There was an old, tufty-haired man sitting behind the front counter, and he rose to his feet with a slightly ethereal-looking smile.

"Hello, Miss and Sir. What may I do for you today?"

I didn't wait for my uncle to answer.

"I'm here to get a wand, Sir." I told him, taking two strides closer to the counter so that I could look him in the eyes. The man who I assumed was Ollivander studied me for a moment before asking,

"And what might your name be, child?"

"Callisto Selwyn, Mr. Ollivander," I responded, and his gaze gained a new interest.

"A Selwyn, hm?" For the first time he glanced at Oberon, who had been standing quietly behind me.

"I do believe my eyes deceive me! Oberon Selwyn! I remember your first wand as if I had sold it yesterday. '12 ¼ inches, Dogwood and Phoenix Feather, and quite unyielding. If I recall correctly, the unfortunate wand was snapped in two several years after its purchase." He looked at my uncle disapprovingly. Oberon shrugged, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Although it isn't surprising," he continued archly. "As Dogwood wands often insist on wielders with capricious, playful natures." He turned to me then, smiling warmly. "But I do believe that we are here to find a wand for you, young Miss Selwyn."

And without further ado, Ollivander drew his own wand from within the pocket of his robes, and with a light flick, a measuring tape lying on the counter began to frantically dart around my form, measuring everything from the distance between my eyes to my height from head to toe.

I held stock still with practiced ease; I was used to staying stationary for fittings, wherein many of the dressmakers' measuring magic was not as skillful as Mr. Ollivander's.

"Excellent, excellent," He muttered to himself, shuffling off into the labyrinth of shelves. After a few minutes of shuffling around, he produced three long, white boxes.

"Here," he said, handing me the first. "Try this out for size. 10 ½ inches, holly and dragon heartstring, pleasantly bendy."

I took the proffered wand and gave it an experimental wave. The whole room was immediately filled with acrid-smelling yellow smoke. After the smoke cleared, Ollivander shook his head, taking the wand back.

"No, no, I should have realized at first, I suppose…try this. 13 inches, ebony and unicorn hair, slightly brittle."

I took the inky black wand and gave it a similar flourish. Nothing at all happened. Ollivander gestured for me to hand the wand back to him.

With every failed attempt (there were three more, one with a hawthorn wand, the other two with willows) Ollivander seemed to become more enthusiastic.

Finally, after a much longer period of time spent shuffling around through boxes of wands, the old man returned with a rather dusty, slightly tatty wand box.

"I'm not sure…" he said as he reached the counter.

For a moment our eyes met and he studied me with a speculative look.

"But perhaps. We won't know until we try, will we?"

He opened the wand box, and drew out a fairly unusual-looking wand; the wood was paler than that of any wand I had ever seen before, almost resembling ivory.

"11 inches, aspen and dragon heartstring, unyielding." As he handed the wand to me, he said, "Do be careful, my dear. This particular combination of wood and core can be very volatile, if not handled properly."

"Alright…" I agreed, somewhat apprehensive at this point.

The wand's grip, as I took it from the old man, felt warm and comfortable in my hand. Warm flooded me, and I moved with instinct as I drew the wand in a straight, rapid line. An explosion of red, gold, and pink sparks flew from the wand's tip, settling on a roll of parchment on Ollivander's desk. The roll immediately went up in flames, disappearing within milliseconds, and leaving behind only a pile of fine gray ash, and, strangely, the sweet smell of freshly-cut grass and summer daisies.

I winced.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander," I said, but he shook his head, an intrigued look in his pale eyes.

"Oh, think nothing of it, Miss Selwyn. So, it seems that you have an affinity for a duelist's combination."

"What?" I asked, frowning as Ollivander retrieved the wand and began packaging it up.

"Aspen serves best in the hands of a determined and strong-minded individual. The wielder of aspen wood is destined to become an excellent, if not peerless, duelist, as aspen is perhaps the most suitable of all wand woods for martial magic. Combined with the power of dragon heartstring…it is certainly a formidable combination, Miss Selwyn."

A formidable combination? My whole life, I had been considered anything but formidable. As I took the box containing my wand from the old man, I felt a determination kindle itself in my mind. Ollivander had given a description of a wielder that I was sure did not fit my own. I was resolved to become the person he had described. I was resolved to become…formidable.


	3. Fit

Chapter Three

Fit

"Ow!"

Melissa didn't even hesitate in her quest to make my waist look as small as possible; her slender fingers continued to pull and tug at the sash of my gown, even as I felt my lungs burn from lack of oxygen.

After a few moments, I clutched the polished marble countertop, feeling my head spin with dizziness. The maid paused briefly.

"My Lady?"

"I...I'm feeling rather faint, I'm afraid," I said, my voice trembling as my breath came out weakly.

"I'm sorry, My Lady, but Mistress Selwyn has informed me that the Blacks will be here within the quarter hour," Melissa said, continuing on with her murderous task.

I gasped, my eyes wide with oxygen deprivation. Once my ribcage was officially warped into an unnatural shape, Melissa rolled my hair into a neat arrangement, gently curling a few strands of hair before draping them over my eyebrow elegantly.

My mother had invited the Blacks over for afternoon tea; ordinarily Desdemona would have been the star of the show, but Mother had something else in mind for me. I had overheard her conversation with Mrs. Flint (one of her closer friends) two days previously. Mother intended this tea as a way for Regulus and me to become acquainted with one another before the start of term in four days. Apparently.

Melissa exited my bathroom with a stately bob of the head, leaving me to attempt to circulate air throughout my body. After I got some control over my faculties, I exited the bathroom, and slipped out of my bedroom and into the hallway.

Selwyn Manor was centuries old; the main beauty of the manor lay in the estate itself. Several acres of land stretched out on either side of the Victorian Brownstone, meticulously gardened and kept. There were two lakes, one behind the house, nearer to the woods, and the other near the Eastern edge of the property. Delicate rosebushes, exquisite flowerbeds, and priceless sculptures and fountains abounded.

The house itself had four floors. My sister and I had rooms on the second floor. The first floor was dominated by the ballroom, the kitchen, the parlor, and the formal dining room. There were also two sitting rooms on the first floor; one for receiving visitors, and the other for informal visits with family members. On the third floor, my parents and Oberon had their rooms, and on the fourth floor were the library, my father's study, and the gallery, where my mother kept most of her finer art pieces.

My mother was receiving the Blacks in the formal sitting room. As I descended the marble staircase into the enormous foyer, which was dominated by a rushing fountain gilded in pure gold, I heard the soft buzz of well-mannered conversation.

I brushed off any minute specks of dust that might have settled onto my gown, and crossed the entry hall, being careful not to splash my skirts with water as I passed the fountain. The door to the sitting room was open, and I quietly entered. Mrs. Black was sitting in a velvet armchair by the window, her back ramrod straight and the skirts of her dressrobes meticulously unwrinkled. My mother and Desdemona were sitting side-by-side on the couch across from Mrs. Black's chair.

On the silky black lounge, I gulped as I saw a familiar figure. Sirius Black was sitting on the couch, looking as disheveled as ever; his mother had managed to force him into a collared shirt and tie, but those were rumpled, and his hair was as careless as ever. He was evidently disinterested in the proceedings, and was picking at a hangnail on his right thumb while our mothers talked.

Sitting next to him was a boy who looked so hauntingly similar to him that I had to focus hard so as not to mix Regulus Black up with his brother. The only distinguishable differences between them were age and size; Regulus, despite being only a year his brother's junior, looked a great deal younger and slighter than Sirius. That, and his hair was neatly arranged and his clothing flawless, in stark contrast to the other boy.

It was only after a few moments that Mother noticed me. She smiled, although, as always, there was no warmth in it.

"Ah, Callisto, there you are, dear."

"Hello, Mother." I turned my gaze to Mrs. Black, bobbing a quick curtsey. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Black."

Inside I was trembling with anxiety. I prayed to whatever gods there might be that Sirius Black did not recognize the girl who had given him the still very-visible bruise under his left eye.

"And you, Miss Selwyn," She said, inclining her head. "I don't believe you have met my sons?"

I turned to the silk-covered longue, keeping my eyes lowered, as if with demurely, when in reality I was trying to decrease the chance of recognition as much as possible.

Regulus scrambled to rise. He bowed a little clumsily, even as his brother followed suit with a glare from their mother.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Selwyn," Regulus said, his voice tinged with slight nervousness. His brother said nothing, instead looking supremely bored, even as my sister attempted to catch his attention with her fluttering eyelashes and meaningful gazes.

I managed an empty smile directed at Regulus.

"And the same to you, Mr. Black,"

My mother was looking like the cat that had eaten the canary. This expression of self-satisfaction increased ten-fold as Mrs. Black said,

"Miss Selwyn, your family has a beautiful estate; your gardens are of quite some renown, as I'm sure you know. Would you care to show Regulus the property?"

"Oh, yes, of course she would," My mother supplied for me. I simply kept my smile of polite indifference in place, while studiously avoiding the gaze of the boy in question.

The boy cleared his throat uncomfortably, and offered his arm to me formally. I took it, my hand practically hovering just above his elbow. I was trying my best to maintain as little contact between the two of us as possible, and he seemed happy to do the same. In the practiced gait we had both been schooled in since birth, we exited the drawing room. I led him to the doors, where Hilda, our head maid, had taken her customary station. She sedately opened them for us, letting in a stream of light and fresh summer air.

As we walked in silence along the gravel driveway, I fought to keep my smooth façade in place. Regulus seemed like a nice boy; in any case, he was less arrogant and obnoxious than most of my peers, although that wasn't saying much. But as a husband?

I banished such thoughts from my mind. Thinking them made me want to push the boy away from me, rip off my kidskin gloves, and run as far away from Selwyn Manor as possible. And that, I though wryly, would certainly not be ladylike.

It was with surprise that I realized Regulus had asked me a question.

"Sorry, what?" I was caught off-guard, and so replied with perhaps a bit less formality than the situation demanded. I was sure Regulus noticed it, but he didn't comment on my rudeness; in fact, it seemed to put him a bit more at ease.

"Oh, I just asked if you're excited for term to start."

"Ah…I suppose so." I was struggling to regain my formal tone, but I wasn't finding it easy. The sun was shining brightly, and all I wanted was to kick off my shoes and jump into the lake, as I had done as a small child. But, as my mother so often reminded me, those days were past.

"I guess there's just a lot expected of me."

I fought the urge not to stop in my tracks. Where had that come from? I wasn't in the habit of baring my soul to strangers, and that was practically what had just happened, on however small a scale. But, instead of alienating Regulus (which, now that I considered it, might not have been such a horrible thing) it seemed to melt through a good deal of the ice between us.

"I know the feeling," He said empathetically. "I mean, not that I have much to live up to when it comes to Sirius, but…" He suddenly got the same expression on his face I had been fighting a few moments previously. I got the distinct impression he had just said something he shouldn't have.

"I mean…err…"

I chanced a glance at the boy as we made our way through the sprawling field of rose bushes. He looked…lost. Concealed within his expensive clothes and well-bred demeanor, was someone who was longing to slouch in his chair at the dinner table, to swear in front of his parents and be sent to his room, to hang out with friends during the summer pulling stupid and meaningless pranks until the school year started again. To be normal.

And that was something I could sympathize with.

"Come with me," I told him suddenly, cutting off his awkward attempts to cover up what was obviously a family matter.

It wasn't far to the smaller lake, near the back of the house, where we would be away from the prying eyes of our mothers and the maids. I led a mystified Regulus into the shelter of a willow tree, where Oberon's old tire swing was still hanging out over the water, exactly where it had been since my uncle had been a child.

"My sister and I used to play here all the time as kids," I said, letting go of his arm. "My parents never come here. If they did they probably would have had the maids take it down."

Regulus was looking at the tire swing with wonderment.

"What…what is it?"

I laughed, for the first time in hours relaxing somewhat. Regulus wasn't too bad; he was just a bit shy, and that was to be expected after the upbringing he had had.

"It's a tire swing. My uncle and my Aunt Titania found it in a muggle junkyard when they were kids. They brought it back here and hid it from my grandfather, and then hung it up over the tree.

"What do you do with it?" He asked, moving to the water's edge to see the swing more clearly.

I stripped off my gloves, dropping them onto the grass without a thought for the expensive fabric.

"Well, it's a swing; you swing on it." I said, kicking off my shoes as I spoke. Regulus glanced back at me, just as I was stripping off my dress. He blushed and hurriedly looked away. I laughed again at his discomfort.

"I'm wearing clothes underneath the dress," I reassured him, but his cheeks were still red with embarrassment. I had slipped on a pair of nylon shorts and a thin tank-top underneath the dress before Melissa had put it on me. It was modest enough, but I'm sure my mother would have had an aneurism nonetheless, had she had witnessed my indecency.

Reaching up, I grabbed the rope, tied securely to the willow branch, and slowly hauled the swing towards myself. Once it was close enough, I pulled myself up onto the tire, and was immediately flying through the air. I allowed myself to swing back and forth once, before flinging myself off the swing and into the water with a loud splash.

I emerged to the surface of the lake laughing, wiping my eyes to clear the water from them. Regulus was laughing too, most of his inhibitions gone at this point. He was laughing, and the expression softened his aristocratic features a great deal.

As I wrung out my hair, once again on shore, he asked,

"How did you learn to swim?"

I frowned, trying to untangle my ruined updo. It was a good thing I had some skill with hair; my mother would be furious if I returned to the drawing room with wet hair and disheveled clothing.

"I guess my uncle taught me. I don't remember exactly. Why, can't you swim?"

He shook his head, looking embarrassed. I shrugged, unsurprised. If it hadn't been for my uncle, it was most likely I wouldn't have known either.

"I'll just have to teach you at some point. You can drown in an inch of water, you know. I think."

I had heard my uncle say something like that to my mother once.

"Really?" Regulus asked, his eyes wide.

I laughed, leaning back in a patch of sunshine, the better to dry off.

"I don't know, Oberon might have just been saying it to annoy my mother."

We sat in silence for a few moments, before Regulus said,

"Are you nervous, Callisto?"

I looked up in surprise. It was the first time he had addressed me by my first name, but he was evidently too focused on the question itself to notice.

"Am I nervous for what?"

"Hogwarts," He said, loosening his collar as the temperature seemed to steadily increase a few degrees with the approach of noon.

"Oh. Well, I guess…" I glanced at him through my eyelashes, trying to decide whether or not to confide in him. He had given me no reason not to do so, so I continued. "I'm worried that I might not be sorted into Slytherin, Regulus."

He looked at me, surprise evident in his eyes.

"Really? But…where would you go, if not Slytherin?"

"I don't know," I said.

My hair had dried mostly by now, so after finger-combing it back into neatness, I did my best to replicate the style Melissa had created. Hopefully my mother wouldn't notice the slight change in my appearance.

"Maybe Ravenclaw? But, then again, maybe Hufflepuff."

Regulus snorted loudly, and I glared at him, mock-offended.

"What? You think I'm not _nice_ enough to be a Hufflepuff? Is that it?"

He played along, smirking slightly.

"Oh, certainly not, Miss Selwyn. Your character simply overflows with the charitable and generous nature of Hufflepuff."

I sniffed primly.

"Sarcasm is not becoming, Mr. Black. You ought to learn to keep such comments to yourself."

He laughed loudly.

"You sound like one of the old bittys my Grandmother invites over for tea," He said. "That's practically word-for-word what they say to my brother whenever he opens his mouth."

I smiled, gazing out over the lake.

"You know, Sirius isn't in Slytherin." Regulus blurted out. My gaze turned to him, and I knew my expression was one of shock.

"What?"

"Yeah. He's not in Slytherin. My Mother practically had a heart-attack when she heard he had been sorted into Gryffindor."

I gaped at the boy sitting next to me.

A member or two of the family sorted into Hufflepuff and tucked away in a dusty corner to never to be spoken of again was common in families like mine and the Black's. But a Gryffindor? And the heir to the family, none the less.

"I had no idea," I said at last.

Regulus shrugged.

"Oh, well, obviously Mother doesn't mention it in public. Most people know—it's difficult to keep that sort of thing quiet—but it's just…well, it's not really talked about."

"Does my mother know?" I asked, realizing that this information would throw quite a wrench into my mother's plans of matrimony for Desdemona.

"Yes, I think so. Like I said, it's not really a secret. Mostly thanks to him. He doesn't exactly keep it to himself." Regulus said, a bit of resentment creeping into his tone.

"I see," I said, sensing a hidden nerve. "We should probably go back, before Mother sends one of the maids to come looking for us."

I picked up the horrid dress, and regretfully slipped back into what felt like a silk straitjacket.

As we began the long walk back to the manor, Regulus said,

"You weren't exactly what I was expecting, you know."

"Oh? And what were you expecting?"

I asked, kicking a pebble and sending it skittering off across the manicured grass.

"Well…someone who doesn't kick pebbles, for one," He said.

I rolled my eyes, only barely managed to keep from smiling.

"Do people who kick pebbles have a certain personality type?"

"Well, no. But…the personality I imagined you having doesn't encourage pebble-kicking. I guess I just thought you'd be more…"

"Like my sister?"

"Well…yeah. I guess."

I nodded, neither surprised nor offended. My sister was the mold to which all pureblooded ladies of society were fitted into; well-mannered, intelligent (but not _too _intelligent), peerlessly beautiful, fluent in French, excellent at dancing, and of discriminating taste.

In all outward appearance, I fitted into that mold as well as I was expected to.

But in reality, I wasn't as polite as Desdemona. I was a bit _too _intelligent, and not quite beautiful enough. I couldn't conjugate _l'imparfait _correctly, I stepped on my partners' toes when I danced, and I didn't really care whether a set of plates was off-white or cream.

So, in reality, I didn't really fit into that mold at all. Not nearly as well as I was expected to.

**Thanks to everybody who reviewed. It only takes a few minutes, and it makes me feel really good! :) **


	4. But I Didn't

Chapter Four

But I Didn't

I had never been in Muggle London before. There was a baseless paranoia in pureblood circles that too much exposure to the non-magical world would result in loss of magical ability. This was ridiculous, if you examined the evidence—plenty of witches and wizards of great renown had coexisted perfectly fine with Muggles in the past. But, of course, only someone with a death wish would bring this fact up with my parents.

King's Cross Station was crowded with people on that sunny September morning; suited businessmen, ladies in stylish skirts and blouses, and families alike could be seen making their ways around the train station, all with places to be and things to do.

My first thought upon seeing this overflow of humanity was that Muggles didn't really look all that different from any of my mother's aristocratic friends or my father's uppity business partners.

My thoughts were destroyed by Desdemona shrieking about what was obviously the end of the world.

"I left my bracelet at home! Mother! Mother, I left my bracelet in my bedroom!"

My mother, who was stepping out of the front seat of the sedan, looked irritated.

"Callisto, what is your sister going on about?" She demanded, brushing off the skirts of her dressrobes and frowning at Desdemona.

"Apparently she's left her bracelet at the manor." I said flatly, thoroughly uninterested in the proceedings.

"Well, how on earth did you do that?" My mother said, her annoyance mounting. "I specifically asked Melissa to stow all of your jewelry in the mahogany cases."

"I was wearing it last night, and I left it on my bedside table!" Desdemona wailed, looking suitably distraught.

"Why don't you just ask one of the maids to send an owl with it to you at Hogwarts?" I asked.

My mother and Desdemona both turned to me, looking horrified by the very suggestion.

"Callisto, your sister's bracelet is worth well over four hundred galleons. We can't simply 'have one of the maids send an owl'." My mother told me with exasperation.

I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"Well, then what do you propose, Mother? It's nearly time," I said, glancing at my wristwatch.

My mother pursed her lip, looking at her own diamond-encrusted timepiece.

"I'm afraid you'll have to do without until Christmas, Desdemona." She said.

My sister opened her mouth, looking as if she were about to protest, when she caught sight of her friends, Bellatrix and Narcissa Black, and their family across the station. She sighed regretfully and said,

"Alright, Mother. I'm going to go say hello to Cissy and Bella. I'll see you and Callisto on the platform."

She headed off towards her friends at a quick yet impeccably ladylike pace.

My mother made a vague gesture at the driver, Edmund, and he nodded, moving to the back of the sedan and opening the trunk. He began unloading my sister's luggage, followed by my own. As he did so, my mother turned to me.

"Come, Callisto, it's time for us to be heading to the platform."

My mother, I knew, had requested that my father attend that day. After all, it was my first year at Hogwarts, and it seemed appropriate that both my parents be there to see me off. However, much to my relief, he had avoided coming, claiming that he had business to attend to.

I followed my mother towards platform nine, struggling to keep up with her long, stately strides. Behind us, Edmund followed with the luggage. My mother paused at a stone pillar in between platforms nine and ten.

"There is an enchantment on the barrier. Walk through it and onto the platform." She ordered, pausing next to Edmund.

"Alright," I said softly, heading off at a brisk pace towards the barrier.

For some reason, my mother's distant attitude was bothering me more than usual that day. She wasn't any worse than ordinary; in fact, she was being quite pleasant. But, inexplicably, I found myself needled by the treatment on that occasion.

As I approached the barrier, I wondered when exactly the enchantment would take effect. Maybe I would just run into the wall and break my nose. That would be embarrassing, and no doubt my mother would be furious at the scene such an occurrence would cause. But no such thing happened. As I was mere inches away from a head-on collision with the brick barrier, I slid through the bricks, and onto a train platform.

The platform was buzzing with students and their families, come to see them off. An enormous scarlet steam engine loomed over the proceedings, and a large, gold-embossed sign hung above the train reading _Platform 9 ¾_.

I flinched backwards as a tall blond boy zipped past me, a hissing tabby cat clutched in his arms. I was equally caught off-balance as a group of what had to be seventh-years breezed by me, talking and laughing loudly. I stumbled backwards, and was nearly halted from falling over by a small hand lightly gripping my elbow.

"Oh! Are you alright?"

I turned around as the hand relinquished me. The voice belonged to a very, very pretty young girl, who looked to be perhaps a year or two my senior. Her skin was milky pale, and smooth as unblemished glass. This feature only accentuated by a pair of blazing green eyes, and a head of long, lustrous red hair.

"You must be a first year, am I right?" She asked brightly, smiling kindly at me.

There was something very genuine about the way she smiled that compelled me to reciprocate.

"Yes, I'm just starting this year. My name is…Li."

I wasn't sure what compelled me to introduce myself by a nickname that only my Uncle Oberon called me. But, for some reason, I didn't feel like telling this girl—this incredibly pretty, very down-to-earth, and inexplicably kind girl—that I was Callisto Titania Selwyn.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Lily Evans. Do you—"

Whatever she was trying to say was cut off by the appearance of another girl. She had a round, open face, and very bright eyes.

"Lily, come on, there's a compartment near the front of the train that'll be snatched for sure if we don't hurry!" She exclaimed.

Lily glanced at me apologetically.

"I suppose I'll see you later…" She said, allowing herself to be dragged away by her friend. I allowed my gaze to follow her for a few moments, until I felt my mother's iron grip clamp down upon my shoulder. Her voice was contained and calm, but I sensed the underlying anger.

"Callisto, please come with me for a moment."

I was utterly bewildered; I hadn't done anything to warrant my mother's wrath.

She pulled my into a small, quiet alcove of the platform, away from prying ears.

"Callisto, who was that young lady you were talking to?" She asked.

I frowned, my confusion growing.

"I…I don't know. I think her name was Lily."

My mother's frown deepened.

"Callisto, I want you to listen very closely to me. I _do not _want you associating with…_those people_."

"What people, Mother?" I asked.

"Mudbloods!" She exclaimed, looking fiercely exasperated.

I resisted the urge to flinch at the ugly word.

I wanted to open my mouth and let what I really thought come pouring out. I wanted to tell my mother that I didn't care whether or not somebody's parents were the product of years of inbreeding; I wanted to tell her that it didn't really matter to me whether or not Lily was a Black, a Lestrange, or a Mudblood.

But I didn't.

I never did.

"Yes, Mother. I understand."

*0*

I wasn't sure how, but I had managed to find an empty compartment. It was near the very back of the train, and was one of the older ones. Desdemona had offered me a seat in her compartment with Bellatrix, Narcissa, and two of their other friends, Callidora Zabini and Cordelia Flint, but I had declined the offer. Although Bellatrix and Narcissa weren't too bad, I had met both Callidora and Cordelia on past occasions, and been less than taken with them.

Callidora was considered a matchless beauty. She had breath-taking good-looks and impeccable mannerisms, but was snobbish in the extreme. And, while there was nothing _wrong_ with her, I simply found Cordelia to be unspeakably dull. So I had opted to sit alone.

However, as the train wrenched into action, the compartment door slid open. A slight, dark-haired girl was standing in the doorframe. Her nose was nearly obscured by a mask of freckles, and her curls were just barely contained beneath a rather tatty sun hat.

"Um…hi…uh…all of the compartments…they're full, and…"

She was twisting her hands furiously, evidently very anxious. I didn't even have to think twice about what to do.

"Sit down," I said; smiling in what I hoped was a welcoming manner.

The girl looked immensely relieved. She moved into the compartment, dragging her trunk behind her. I helped her get it up into the rack, before she sat down opposite me, staring at her toes shyly.

"I'm Bonnie Wainesworth," She introduced herself, chancing a quick, darting look in my direction.

"My name's Li," I said. Once again, the name slipped out. Callisto Selwyn just sounded so pretentious, and so very wrong.

She smiled shyly.

"It's nice to meet you."

It turned out that Bonny was a half-blood. I knew my mother wouldn't approve. But I didn't care. Once the girl had gotten over her shyness, she turned out to have a lovely disposition and a sparkling sense of humor. We spent the first half hour of the train ride discussing animatedly whether or not the Chudley Cannons had a real chance at the cup that year.

I followed Quidditch avidly. I had been taught to fly at a young age, for practical purposes, but the sport itself was widely discouraged within my family. Once again, this was one of the small details I disregarded that made me just a bit less desirable than other girls of my class.

Bonnie also had an enthusiasm for the sport, which turned out to be a subject we bonded over.

Our conversation was interrupted by a knock at the compartment door.

"Refreshment Trolley!"

I slid open the door, and glanced back and Bonnie.

"Do you want anything?"

She blushed and looked at her shoes.

"I don't have any money."

I shrugged, reaching into the pocket of my tailored coat.

"Oh, don't worry about it."

I drew out a handful of coins, and proceeded to pick out a few of my favorite sweets, along with a couple I thought Bonnie might like.

I dumped them on the seat next to me, and Bonnie looked at the wealth of food with wide eyes.

"You didn't have to do that," She said, even as she reached for a chocolate frog.

I shrugged once more.

"It's just money."

She frowned, biting the frog's head off and looking at me contemplatively.

"You must come from a rich family."

I stiffened. I had been thoroughly enjoying myself for the past forty-five minutes. No mention of engagements, dinner parties, or ball gown fittings had even threatened to surface, and I had loved every moment of it.

"It was only a few Sickles," I said evasively, and she nodded agreeably.

"Well, yes. But you said 'it's just money'. That's not really the attitude most people have."

She finished the chocolate, licking her fingers to dispel any lingering stickiness.

I popped a few Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into my mouth, trying to avoid a reply as long as possible.

"I suppose you could say that I come from a fairly well-to-do family."

The understatement of the century, no doubt.

Bonnie shrugged, and to my relief, dropped the issue.

"Anyway, what do you think about the Tornadoes' new chaser, Locke? I personally think he's more flash than performance, but…"

*0*

The sky was melting into a soft, dusky shade of purple outside. The lights inside the carriage had been dimmed, and Bonnie was dozing fitfully in her corner of the compartment. I was content to quietly watch the countryside melt into a blur of fields and forests outside the train window.

My world had rapidly been stretched and expanded beyond its natural borders that past day. I had seen, and spoken with, people who were not purebloods for the first time in my young life. I had seen an area of England not confined to the grounds of Selwyn Manor, or the estates of various other pureblooded society families, and I had befriended a girl whose father was not a wizard. The world I had left behind in Selwyn Manor now seemed practically miniscule.

I was startled out of my reverie by someone knocking on the compartment door. A moment later the door slid open, and I was surprised to see the familiar figure of Regulus Black.

"Hi," He said haltingly, his demeanor decidedly unsure. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Sure. Just keep your voice down," I replied, gesturing to the sleeping Bonnie. He nodded in understanding, and sat down in the empty seat next to me.

"What's up?" I asked, curious as to why he had bothered to actively seek me out.

He shrugged.

"I just got tired of my friends. It's a bit exhausting to listen to them talk incessantly for six hours straight. I swear, they don't have off buttons."

I smiled at this.

"Who are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Oh, the set of friends I'm expected to have; Phineas Flint and Caelum Nott."

I reflexively pulled a face at the two names, and Regulus laughed.

"Yeah, they're not exactly the brightest wands in Ollivander's. But it's not like I have a choice."

He glanced over at Bonnie.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"Oh…her name's Bonnie Wainesworth."

"Wainesworth? I don't think I've heard of them," He said, frowning.

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, no, you wouldn't have. Her father's a muggle."

Regulus's eyebrows shot upwards in surprise.

"She's a half-blood?"

I frowned at him.

"Does it matter?"

He paused for a second before sighing a little.

"I don't know. I guess not. But do you really think your mother would approve?"

I turned my gaze to the window, watching the light slowly fade behind the rolling hills.

"No. I'm sure she wouldn't," I said at last.

Regulus opened his mouth as if to say something, when the compartment door flew open.

"There you are!" Flint exclaimed irritably. "We've been looking all over for you, man. We're only fifteen minutes away."

In the corner of the compartment, Bonnie was startled awake. She frowned at the new arrivals, confusion evident in her expression.

"Yeah, come on, Lover Boy, let's go!" Nott continued, poking his head into the compartment.

Regulus flushed and said loudly, "Fine, I'm coming!"

He got up and glanced at me, rolling his eyes. I smiled slightly as the compartment door shut behind him.

"Who were they?" Bonnie yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Regulus Black was the one with half a brain. The other two were Phineas Flint and Caelum Nott."

"Fair enough…but _who are they_?"

I waved a hand dismissively.

"Oh, it's not important. Let's get changed."

** …..Uh oh. I'm starting to like Regulus more than I probably should, seeing as how I intended this as a Sirius/OC fic…**

**Ok, so here's what I'm going to do:**

**REVIEW! And in your review, include who you're rooting for at this point in the story. Remember, we haven't really seen much of Sirius at this point, so the tables could very easily turn within a few chapters. Anyway, cast your votes! **


	5. The Same But Different

Chapter Five

The Same But Different

"Selwyn, Callisto!"

I had never been so anxious at the sound of my own name.

As Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts' deputy headmistress, looked up from her long list of names, I ascended the dais at the front of the Great Hall.

I tried to ignore the hundreds of eyes trained on me at that moment, instead sitting down on the plain wooden stool in front of McGonagall. She picked up the tattered Sorting Hat, and lowered it onto my head. I was grateful as it slipped over my eyes, obscuring my view of the staring students.

"Well, well, well…Miss Callisto Selwyn."

I started, feeling my heart rate accelerate at the unexpected voice in my ear. The sound of a croaking chuckle sounded.

"Yet another Selwyn, hm? Interesting...not quite what I was expecting, I must admit."

_That's what everybody says,_ I thought to myself, sure that the Sorting Hat would be able to hear the comment. Once again I heard that papery chuckle.

"You're most unusually spirited. Honestly, most young women of your class tend to lean towards a more…docile attitude."

_You mean complacent. _

"Oho, what have we here? One sharp-tongued young witch, that's for sure." The Sorting Hat sounded very intrigued.

"You're quite intelligent…enough so to fit right into Ravenclaw. However, there's a great deal of ambition there as well. You would not do so badly in Slytherin, either."

For some reason, I felt my heart grow heavy with this pronouncement. My shift in emotion, apparently, did not go unnoticed by the hat.

"Not too enthusiastic about following the family footsteps, hm?"

I didn't say anything in response, instead waiting for him to continue.

"Interesting…_most _fascinating. Then perhaps…Ravenclaw would be best…"

_I don't think so._

I wasn't sure what made me say it. Maybe it was my subconscious, which had been trained for so many years to please my family, telling me that I had to at least try for Slytherin. But, then again, maybe, for once, it was my _conscious_ telling me that I didn't want something.

"You don't _want_ Ravenclaw, is that it? Yes…I see now. How…intriguing!" The hat sounded absolutely delighted.

I had been sitting up there on the stool for a good deal longer than most people had been, and the whispers of bored students were beginning to circulate around the Great Hall.

"Students rarely tell me what they want. They just assume that I know best."

_I'm not sure I'm comfortable with leaving the next seven years of my life under the sole jurisdiction of a hat._

"Aha! I thought so. That confirmed it. It is a difficult path I am setting you on, my dear, but I am afraid there is no other place for you than…GRYFFINDOR!"

This was shouted aloud so that the whole hall could hear it.

I was in shock, even as McGonagall removed the Sorting Hat from my head, and the Gryffindor table erupted into applause. The other houses clapped along politely.

Reflexively, I glanced over at the Slytherin table, where my sister was sitting with Cordelia and Bellatrix. Her look was one of glazed shock.

Somehow I managed to walk over to an empty space at the Gryffindor table and sit down. I let my head fall into my hands, the numbness of complete and utter shock filling me as the ceremony progressed. I only snapped out of it when I heard Bonnie's name called.

I looked up just in time to see the hat shout,

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Bonnie descended the dais, looking relieved. She took the seat across from me at the Gryffindor table, smiling with excitement. I couldn't muster the energy to reciprocate.

When the ceremony finished, she leaned across the table as the Headmaster began his welcoming speech.

"What's the matter?" She whispered.

I swallowed and said,

"It's complicated. Let's just say that my life is over."

As Dumbledore finished his speech, food appeared on the previously empty platters covering the long wooden tables. Conversation exploded as students from all four houses began chattering with one another, filling the Great Hall with the warm buzz of conversation.

"So, what exactly is the problem?"

Bonnie asked, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.

I sighed, my appetite ruined.

"Well, everyone in my family for hundreds of years has been in Slytherin. My parents will be…" I struggled to find the right adjective. "disappointed, let's say, that I'm in Gryffindor."

"Disappointed? Isn't that a little understated, Selwyn?"

I didn't want to look in the direction that voice had come from, in all honesty. Because, although I had only heard it a few times, I knew exactly to whom that voice belonged.

"Black." I acknowledged tightly, glancing down the table to where Sirius Black was sitting with a group of boys who were obviously his friends.

"I never pegged you as much of a rule-breaker, Selwyn. Isn't Mummy going to be a bit peeved when she hears about this?" He continued conversationally, grinning at me in a thoroughly irritating manner.

I glared at him venomously; I was _not _in the mood to bandy words.

"Shut your face, Black. If you don't have anything intelligent to say, then don't say anything to me. That should ensure that I never have to speak to you again."

Maybe it was too harsh. But it felt good to, for once, not say the socially appropriate thing.

*0*

The dormitory wasn't very big, but it was cozy. There were several large windows on the west side of the wall, which gave an airy, light feeling. The hangings on the four-poster beds were a rich shade of crimson, and the red and yellow rug spread across the flagstone floor was plush and soft. There was a fire going in the tiny fireplace across the room from the four beds, and the room was pleasantly warm.

When Bonnie and I reached the dormitory, there were two other girls already there. One had claimed the bed closest to the fireplace, and the other had chosen the one next to hers.

The one with the bed closer to the fire had long, dark hair, and was busy hanging up a muggle poster of some kind of sports team. She glanced towards the dormitory door at the sound of it opening and closing.

"Oh! Hi, I'm Marlene," She said distractedly, trying to attach the poster to the wall with Spello tape, and evidently meeting with some issues. "I would shake your hand, but…"

"It's fine," I said, smiling at her. "I'm Li, and this is Bonnie."

I directed my gaze to the girl on the second bed then. She was marking her place in a book. As I watched, she slid off a pair of reading spectacles, and directed a small smile at Bonnie and me.

"Hi, I'm Emmeline Vance. It's nice to meet you two." She gestured to the two empty beds. "Marlene and I already picked our beds, I hope you don't mind."

"Oh, it's fine," Bonny assured them, moving to the bed closest to the far wall. That left me with the one closest to the windows, which was more to my liking in any case.

"I'm so tired!" Marlene exclaimed, once her poster was hung.

She flopped down onto her bed, all of the energy seeming to drain out of her body.

"Tell me about it," Emmeline groaned, pulling off her shoes and letting them thud to the wooden floor. "I had to get up at four o'clock this morning so that my parents and I could catch a portkey to King's Cross."

I sat down on my own bed as the girls continued to chatter with one another. My trunk was neatly placed at the foot of my bed, a silent reminder that, no matter how wrong it seemed, I belonged here.

I glanced down at the bedspread beneath me as Bonnie opened up her trunk and began to unpack her things.

The sheets and comforter were all a pure, brilliant shade of crimson. It was an unfamiliar color to me; nothing in my house was red. Not one piece of furniture or shred of clothing in Selwyn Manor was even remotely similar in color to the bedspread I sat upon.

As I drifted to sleep with the soft sound of the girls' conversation around me, I wondered how long it would be until my parents heard about the events that night. A week? A day? An hour?

*0*

I woke up at an ungodly hour. The light filtering through the windows of the girls' dormitory was still the watery, uncertain shade of the wee hours of the morning. And my feet were freezing; Bonnie had left open the window between our two beds, and judging by the steady pounding of water against the roof of Gryffindor Tower, it had rained overnight, and was still going strong.

I slid out of bed, groaning as my sore, cold muscles stretched. Emmeline, Bonnie, and Marlene were all tucked in their beds, peacefully asleep, and so I made an effort to be quiet as I grabbed a towel and a change of clothes.

After a long, hot shower, I changed into one of the many uniforms I had purchased two weeks previously in Diagon Alley. At first glance, my uniform would be no different from any other girl's at Hogwarts. However, upon closer examination, the thread was silk, the buttons were burnished silver, and the cuffs of my shirt had a 'minimalistic' lace border. Even when I was dressed the same as everyone else, I couldn't escape being a Selwyn.

I left my tie, which had previously been plain white, but had become patterned with gold and red stripes, in my trunk. Classes didn't start until Monday, so it was unnecessary to wear the formal piece.

As I exited the steamy girls' bathroom, toweling off my long hair, I caught sight of something that made me frown. In the middle of the landing, there was a foot. It was wearing a black trainer, and there was the cuff of a pant-leg just barely visible.

"Idiot! Your leg is sticking out!" Someone hissed. Evidently they thought they were speaking in a clandestine tone, but the whisper echoed all around the girls' wing of Gryffindor Tower.

"Idiot? You're the idiot, James! You're going to wake up every girl in the tower!"

I cleared the distance between the foot and myself in a few strides, and with a reach and a yank, revealed four boys standing in the corridor, looking guilty as could be.

I glanced curiously at what I was holding. It was a cloak of some kind, and I realized as I looked at it that it must be one of the fabled invisibility cloaks I read about in history books. I returned my gaze to the four boys in front of me.

One of them was, unfortunately, familiar; it was Black, with three of his idiotic friends. One of them I thought I had heard called James, a member of the estranged Potter clan. I didn't know either of the others by name; one was a slight, mousy-looking boy with a decidedly nervous air, and the other was a good-looking, sandy-haired boy who had a resigned look on his face.

"What are you idiots doing in the girls' wing?" I demanded, tossing the cloak in the general direction of Potter. He hastily caught it, and stowed it behind his back, as if concealing it would erase the fact that I had seen it in the first place.

"It's a free country, Selwyn," Black said.

With every word that came out of Sirius Black's mouth, I found myself disliking him more and more. How could he have such a pleasant, charming brother, when he himself was such a git? I almost felt sympathy for my sister.

The thought of Desdemona, and what she must be thinking about the events of last night, made bile rise in my throat. But I pushed the emotions aside, turning my attention to the matter at hand.

"I can't argue with that. Because, evidently, there's no law against being a total moron. If there were, you'd have a life-sentence in Azkaban, Black."

His blond friend emitted a startled bark of laughter, prompting Black to smack him loudly across the back of the head.

"Shut it, Remus."

I rolled my eyes. Suddenly, despite a good night's sleep, I felt inexplicably exhausted.

"Whatever. I don't even care," I muttered, heading off down the hall in the direction of my dormitory. It wasn't really of interest to me what stupid mischief Black was getting into with his friends, as long as I could take a long, peaceful nap.

*0*

The four friends stared after the retreating figure of the girl, even as she disappeared into the first year girls' dormitory.

"Who was that?" Asked James, turning to Sirius. "Do you know her?"

Sirius shrugged, wanting to forget about the annoying blond-haired girl as soon as possible.

"She's my brother's girlfriend or something."

James laughed loudly, and all three of his friends scrambled to shush him. He continued in a quieter tone,

"Regulus has a girlfriend, now?"

"Oh, I don't know. She's the sister of that chick my parents are trying to set me up with. I think my mother already has the china picked out for her and Regulus's wedding."

"What was her problem, then?" Peter asked.

Sirius shrugged.

"Dunno, mate. I've never even spoken to her before."

James chuckled.

"You've been having bad luck with the ladies lately, man. First that crazy girl in Diagon Ally…" Sirius unconsciously touched the fading bruise beneath his eye. "And now even your brother's girl hates you."

Sirius shrugged.

"Whatever, who cares. Come on, guys, we have work to do."

**Aha. Just thought I'd throw in that little twist of irony.**


	6. Silence

Chapter Six

Silence

My sister and I hadn't spoken once since the first night of term. Whenever she saw me in the corridors, she was usually with Bellatrix and Callidora or Cordelia. Her friends would give me cautious, hushed looks, as though they had just been talking to one another about me. Desdemona would avert her eyes, or otherwise give me a timid, meaningless smile, before hurrying along on her way without a word.

I was getting much the same treatment from Regulus, along with all of his friends. Silence was all I had been given from my parents. Either they hadn't heard of the disastrous sorting ceremony (unlikely) or they were ignoring me, not quite sure how to handle their daughter's newest misstep.

If it hadn't been for Marlene, Bonnie, and Emmeline, I probably would have had several consecutive nervous break-downs. They were fully willing to listen to my long and nearly identical rants about my family for hours on end.

"And, I mean, putting aside the morality, all this pureblood supremacy is logically baseless!" I said for the hundredth time.

Emmeline nodded, at this point trained not to interrupt when I was on one of my tangents.

"Bonnie is _much _better than me at both charms and transfiguration, and she's a half-blood! That's hard evidence; being pureblooded has nothing to do with magical talent," I continued.

Emmeline sighed and rolled her eyes. She interceded, then, before I could work myself into a nervous frenzy.

"I wish you would calm down about this, Li. Let's talk about something else." '

I sighed.

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?"

Emmeline shrugged, seeming to think about it. But I got the feeling she already had an idea of what she wanted to say.

"So…Bonnie told me that you and Regulus Black are friends?"

I stiffened slightly. Although I hadn't admitted it to anyone, I was angry at Regulus. He had been studiously ignoring me for the past two months, dodging me whenever possible, and avoiding my gaze in the hallways. Deep down, I couldn't blame him for it; it wouldn't have been good for his image to be associating with me, now that I had tainted my family's name. No doubt his mother had owled him specific instructions not to speak to me ever again. But still, I couldn't help being a little hurt.

"No. Not really." I said.

The two of us were taking a morning walk around the grounds. Bonnie and Marlene liked to sleep in, so Emmeline, who didn't mind getting up earlier like I occasionally did, had proposed that we go for a stroll.

"Oh…"

"Our families are just friends," I said, feeling the need to clarify.

"Fair enough,"

We walked in silence for another few minutes.

"Why do you ask?" I said, finally giving in to curiosity.

Emmeline looked at me with surprise.

"You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Well, there was a _huge _fight in the Slytherin Common Room last night. I guess you wouldn't have heard because you were finishing that essay for Slughorn."

I frowned.

"What do you mean a fight?"

Emmeline shrugged.

"Well, just like it sounds. A couple of Slytherin first years got into an argument which, because boys will be boys, progressed into a fight. I think they're both still in the hospital wing this morning. Anyway, one of them was your friend, Regulus. Or so I've heard."

"We're not friends." I said distractedly.

Emmeline had said the two boys, one of whom may or may not have been Regulus, were both in the hospital wing. That sounded serious.

"Ok…" Emmeline said in response to my claim, watching me carefully. "Then why, exactly, do you look like you're contemplating the Salem Witch Trials?"

"What! I do not," I muttered, attempting to mask the worry I was feeling.

"Why don't you go see him?" Emmeline suggested as we completed our circuit around the lake and began moving back towards the castle.

"Why would I do that? We haven't even spoken to each other in two months."

She shrugged.

"Because you're worried about your friend?"

"We. Are. Not. Friends. He's made that clear." I added softly.

Emmeline shrugged.

"Alright, if you say so. I'll see you at lunch; I promised Marlene that we would study in the library this morning."

And with that she left me alone in the Entrance Hall, torn as to what to do.

I was sitting on one of the hundreds of steps on the hall's spiral staircase, when I was startled out of my reverie.

"Ah, if it isn't young Miss Selwyn!"

I bolted to my feet, eyes wide with surprise. On the staircase above me stood the rotund figure of Professor Horace Slughorn.

"Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I hope I didn't shock you," He said kindly, making his way down the stairs to stand on my level.

"No, not at all, Professor,"

"Finished that essay on Sleeping Draughts yet?" He asked.

I was in no mood for small talk, but I didn't want to be rude to the kindly old professor.

"Yes, Sir, I finished it just last night."

"Excellent! With that work ethic, it's truly a crime that you aren't a Ravenclaw," He chuckled. I managed an empty smile in return. "By the way, Miss Selwyn, I was wondering if you might be willing to do me a favor."

I nodded eagerly, glad of something to take my mind of Regulus. However, it turned out that Slughorn's favor would do just the opposite.

"Would you be so good as to take these papers up to Mr. Black in the hospital wing? I believe the two of you are acquainted." He proffered a sheaf of papers, and I took them haltingly. "I've just gone up and down these blasted staircases twice, and my knees aren't what they used to be."

"Of course, Professor," I heard myself say, taking the papers from him. He reached over to ruffle my hair affectionately.

"You're such a good girl, Miss Selwyn. Just like that sister of yours."

"Just like that sister of mine." I repeated.

*0*

It wasn't too difficult to find the Hospital Wing. I had passed it a few times on my way to and from classes, but had never had an occasion to actually visit it until now.

The rows of white beds were empty, except for two, which were on opposite ends of the room. I hesitantly entered the infirmity, not wanting to wake up the sleeping patients. I was saved the trouble of a decision by Madame Pomfrey.

"There are no visitors allowed so early in the morning!" The matron whispered loudly, exiting her office with the obvious intent of shooing me out of the Hospital Wing.

"I have some school papers for Regulus. From Professor Slughorn," I supplied, even as Madame Pomfrey made to push me outside. She paused and said,

"Alright, alright. Leave them on his bedside table and then go down to breakfast. He needs his rest."

"Yes, ma'am," I hastily agreed, even as she bustled back into her office.

I crossed the Hospital Wing to the bed on the far end, my steps sounding unusually loud in the empty and tranquil room. Regulus was sound asleep, and as I beheld his face, my eyes widened. He had a real shiner; Madame Pomfrey had lowered the swelling, but the large, fist-shaped bruise spreading around his right eye was still all-too apparent. Besides that, he had a split eyebrow that was just barely healed.

I shook my head, trying to ignore the injuries. Instead, I simply set down the packet of papers on his bedside table and turned to go. As I did, however, I caught sight of a flicker of movement out in the corridor. For a second I thought I had imagined it, and then it came again.

Someone was pacing outside the Hospital Wing.

Frowning with curiosity, I made my way back to the door, just in time to almost have a head-on collision with a very agitated Sirius Black.

"You!" He said, sounding just as surprised to see me as I was to see him. I cocked my head to one side, wondering if he was here to see Regulus. That didn't seem characteristic of what I had seen of him so far.

"What are you doing here?"

He ran a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable.

"Nothing."

"Oh. And I suppose that's why you've been pacing around in front of the door for the past five minutes?"

He frowned at me thunderously.

"Don't you have someone's ass to kiss, Selwyn?"

I laughed unabashedly at that, and he looked surprised by the reaction. He had evidently expected to get a rise out of me.

"Nah, I've already fulfilled that quota for the day."

And, ironically, it was true. After all, I had agreed to deliver Slughorn's packet of papers, which I was pretty sure constituted ass-kissing.

"How is he?" Sirius asked suddenly. I was about to answer, when I decided to put him a little more on edge than he already was.

"Who?"

He glared at me, obviously aware that I was teasing him.

"My brother."

"Oh, _him_."

"Who did you think I was talking about, Flint?" He asked sarcastically. I was surprised at the name.

"Flint? Phineas Flint? That's who he got into the fight with?"

"Yeah, that's what I heard, anyway." Black sighed, shaking his head.

"Why? Aren't they friends?"

He gave voice to a bark of humorless laughter.

"You'd know better than me. My brother and I barely speak to each other."

I raised an eyebrow archly.

"And you think that we do?" I said.

"Well, last time I checked, you two were joined at the hip," He said with an eye roll, sliding to the floor in front of the Hospital Wing. I remained standing, instead crossing my arms and balancing my weight on one foot.

"Then, evidently, you haven't checked in two or three months," I muttered.

He laughed mirthlessly.

"Typical. He's infatuated one moment, and then the next, when you're a Gryffindor, he runs for the door."

"Do I detect sour grapes?" I asked, intrigued by the unusual humanity Black was showcasing.

He glared up at me.

"Stop being so nosy! You don't know anything about what it's like! He's the perfect son. My mother's always saying; why can't you be more like Regulus, why don't you do as you're told? Do you know how fucking annoying that is to hear night and day?"

I just looked at him.

I let my gaze drill into him, telling him more than angry words ever would.

Then I turned on my heel and walked away from Sirius Black, who, despite being an insensitive, unintelligent git, I understood better than perhaps anyone I had ever met.

**Dear god. Sometimes I just…just…**

**This was SO not the direction I was planning this chapter to go in.**

**I was originally planning a sweet, endearing apology by a beat-up Regulus, but instead it turned into…whatever the hell this is. **

**I guess I was subconsciously influenced by a review I got from The Ashen Sun which said the whole 'girl hates Sirius, girl becomes friends with Sirius, girl falls for Sirius' plotline was too clichéd. So I decided to give a little more substance and drama to Li's dislike of Sirius, instead of her just disliking him because of his idiocy, as is the case in most stories. **

**Please review! **

**Anyway, there will be a humiliatingly sappy friendship moment between Li and Regulus in the next chapter. I promise.**


	7. Cordially, Calypso Selwyn

Chapter Seven

Cordially, Lady Calypso Selwyn

"Eat something, Li! You'll never grow boobs if you eat like such a bird," Marlene said, prodding my hand towards the clean spoon lying beside my plate.

I glared at her, snatching my hand away.

I had been distracted all day; after seeing how badly hurt Regulus was, and after the unsettling conversation I had had with his brother, I had drifted through Saturday morning in a daze.

Bonnie, who was sitting across the table next to Marlene, tilted her head to one side curiously.

"Why are you so on edge?" She asked.

"She's worried about her boyfriend." Emmeline said, sliding into the seat next to me with a snicker.

"He is _not _my boyfriend, Em!" I spluttered indignantly. "We're not even friends!"

"So you've said. Many times." She smirked.

"Who is this we're talking about?"

Marlene demanded, looking thoroughly lost even as she bit into a club sandwich.

"Regulus Black, her not-friend." Said Emmeline, helping herself to a bowl of crisps.

"Is he the one who got into a muggle brawl in the Slytherin Common Room?" Marlene asked.

"Yeah, I heard that." Bonnie said. "Although I don't know if it's true. After all, it's just a rumor."

"No, it's true," I said miserably, pushing a bit of lasagna around my plate moodily. "I saw him in the Hospital Wing this morning."

There were 'oohs' and various exclamations from all of my friends.

"So you listened to my advice," Emmeline said smugly.

"No, I didn't. Slughorn just asked me to bring some work up to him."

"Oh..." Bonnie sounded slightly disappointed. She brightened almost immediately, however. "But there's still time for a romantic visit! It's only noon, after all. The day is still alive."

I frowned.

"What are you going on about?"

"Ooh she's right!" Marlene exclaimed, clapping her hands together delightedly. "You should go see him, Li. I'm sure he's just longing for the gentle touch of female sympathy."

"That sounds like a line from a semi-pornographic romance novel," I said dryly.

As the other girls continued to chatter about various topics, ranging from who had the hottest older brother, to whether or not Professor Slughorn _actually _knew the captain of the Hollyhead Harpies, I was lost in thought.

Were my friends right? Had it been mean-spirited of me not to even leave some sign that I had visited Regulus in the Hospital Wing? Well, I thought drily, some sign other than a pile of potions paperwork.

I was distracted from my thoughts as Headmaster Dumbledore stood up, and the whole hall gradually fell silent.

"I apologize for the interruption of your meals," The headmaster began mildly. "I would just like to clarify some events that took place recently. I'm sure that by now the rumor has circulated that there was a brawl in the Slytherin Common Room last night. This is true, if slightly exaggerated in the retelling."

A ripple of whispers spread throughout the Great Hall as people turned to their friends to speculate about who had started what and whether or not Slytherin would lose house points.

"I would just like to state that this behavior is not acceptable." The headmaster's tone remained kind and gentle, but there was real reproach in his sparkling blue eyes. "It is far beneath the expectation we, as staff, have for Hogwarts students. Any students caught dueling, be it physically or magically, for the rest of term, will receive double the standard punishment, along with double the deducted house points. I expect there shall be no further need for such interruptions."

He sat back down and casually tucked back into his lunch.

Gradually the staring students all followed suit, still gossiping avidly about this now-confirmed juicy occurrence.

"I'm…going to go to the library." I said lamely.

My friends all glanced at each other, and Bonnie and Marlene giggled. I glared, and Em waved a hand at me dismissively.

"Get out of here." She said.

It was a long walk up to the Hospital Wing.

I nearly turned back a dozen times, telling myself that I knew Regulus was fine, and that it wasn't my business in any case. But somehow I still found myself outside the Hospital Wing nearly ten minutes later.

I hesitantly shuffled into the infirmary. It was as clean, pristine, and tranquil as ever, and I didn't like the idea of disturbing such peace. However, just as I turned to depart from the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey bustled out of her office.

"Oh! Miss Selwyn, I was wondering if you might be back." She said, her tone decidedly less irritable than it had been upon my visit that morning. "I was just about to wake up young Mr. Black, if you're here to visit." She said, briskly heading over to Regulus's bed, where the roughed-up boy was still asleep.

As I hesitantly followed the hospital matron, I glanced at the bed where Flint had been tucked that morning. It was empty.

Madam Pomfrey noticed my curious look. As she poured a burgundy-colored liquid into a glass, she said,

"Mr. Flint's parents arrived about an hour ago." Her look became both disapproving and annoyed as she stirred the potion with her wand, turning it a shade of light red. "I assured them that his injuries were not so severe that they warranted a leave of absence, but they insisted."

I nodded, unsurprised. No doubt Mr. and Mrs. Flint had been furious at the damage to their precious heir. I guessed that the only thing that would stop them from brining the issue up with the Governors would be the fact that the boy their son had gotten into the fight with was a Black. Although the Flint's were a wealthy, well-bred, and vastly influential family, they could not rival the Blacks in any of these areas.

Which brought up the question I had been wrestling with all morning: Regulus was so wealthy, well-bred, and influential. What had brought one of the aristocratic sons of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black to the point of a muggle brawl?

I wouldn't have to wait long for my questions to be answered; Madam Pomfrey had managed to force the red potion down Regulus's throat, and the boy instantly awoke, spluttering and attempting to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Eugh, that's _ghastly_." He complained, glaring at the empty glass in Madam Pomfrey's hand. The healer shrugged, seeming unphased by his obvious disgust.

"You have a visitor, Mr. Black, if you're feeling well enough." She said, setting down the glass on his bedside table.

Regulus, for the first time, glanced in my direction. Surprise colored his expression, followed by a look of shame as he perhaps recalled how studiously he had ignored me the past three months.

The matron, after spending several minutes futzing with several glass bottles on Regulus's bedside table, bustled off in the direction of her office. As she quietly shut the door behind her, I sat down on the stool pulled up next to the bed. For a few minutes, Regulus and I just looked at each other. His gaze was uncomfortable, and mine, as always, was unyielding.

"Thanks for coming to see me, Callisto." He said after a few more moments of charged silence.

"Don't mention it," I replied, unsmiling.

I wasn't sure what I had come up to the Hospital Wing to do, but I was certain it wasn't to offer the boy sympathy.

"How…how have you been?"

I waved away the question impatiently, instead getting straight down to the heart of the issue.

"Regulus, what are you doing here?"

He looked confused.

"You mean Madam Pomfrey didn't tell you what happened?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Please. The whole school has heard by now. Dumbledore even made a speech at lunch about it."

I felt slightly sadistic at the amount of amusement I garnered from Regulus's mounting alarm as I said this.

"Anyway," I continued "what I was trying to ask is what exactly happened with Flint."

"Oh." Regulus looked a little embarrassed, and glanced away from me, feigning interest in a mote of dust that was drifting through the air near the base of his bed. "It was nothing, really. Just…Phineas being Phineas, if you know what I mean."

I arched an eyebrow speculatively.

"It hasn't seemed to bother you before now. You two have been joined at the hip for the past few months."

Regulus shrugged, trying to brush me off. This only made me want to know the truth more.

"Well? What was it?"

"It…it was just something he said, is all." Regulus muttered, twisting a bit of his blanket in between two fingers.

"What did he say?" I prodded, not caring if I was making the boy uncomfortable. I was curious. Plus, although I was loath to admit it, I felt more than a little animosity towards him for his indifferent treatment of me during the past few months. Yes, it was more than a little petty, but as a result, it was also more than a little satisfying.

"He…he said something about families tainted by blood-traitors."

I frowned in confusion. Growing up in the Black household, that sort of talk would be just as commonplace for Regulus as it was for me. It was still unclear to me as to why hearing Flint say something about various 'tainted' pureblood houses would result in a physical confrontation.

"So what? He says rubbish like that all the time."

"I know. But this time…I don't know, I just snapped. He mentioned my brother. And…you."

I just stared at him for a minute or two, before emitting a bark of laughter and allowing my head to fall into my hands.

"Idiot." I groaned. "That's all?"

I couldn't see him at that moment, but I imagined him bristling self-righteously.

"I wasn't going to just sit there and listen to him insult my family and friends. What do you expect?"

I glanced up at him, surprised by the title.

"Oh, so now we're friends, are we?"

Regulus glanced away from me, abashedly not meeting my piercing stare.

"Listen, Callisto…I'm sorry I've been avoiding you lately."

I could tell from his facial expression he hoped I would interrupt him, but instead I simply crossed my arms and watched him, waiting for him to continue.

"I didn't mean…I wasn't…"

He sighed in frustration, running a hand over his face, and then wincing when he caught on his only partially-healed split eyebrow.

I wasn't by nature a particularly kind or empathetic individual, but I decided to take pity on him just this once, in light of his injuries.

"Don't mention it." I repeated; this time, however, there was real sincerity in my words, as opposed to thinly-veiled accusation.

He sighed, allowing his hand to fall back to his side.

"Flint really did a number on your face, huh?" I said conversationally. Regulus grinned.

"You should see _him_. His mummy and daddy were here just a little while ago to scoop up their precious baby so that he wouldn't have to deal with being seen in public for the next couple of days."

I smiled, imagining the scene unfolding before me.

"Was Mrs. Flint wearing that awful ostrich-feather hat she has?"

He emitted a bit of startled laughter.

"How did you guess?"

I shrugged with mock-modestly.

"I have a knack for these sorts of things."

"Speaking of parents…what did Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn have to say about the whole…"

"Gryffindor debacle?"

"I was going to put it more diplomatically, but yes."

"Nothing," I said, sighing and brushing a lock of hair behind my ear distractedly. "Absolutely nothing. No howler publicly disowning me from the family, no angry letter confining me to my room for the next six summers of my life. Nothing."

It felt good to discuss this with someone other than Marlene, Bonnie, and Em. They were all excellent friends, but I knew that Regulus understood my situation, if not exactly, at least better than any of them did.

"Maybe they just haven't heard the news yet."

I gave him an incredulous look.

"Regulus, my mother is one of the most well-connected witches in society. Do you honestly think that, after three whole months, she wouldn't have heard about something like this?"  
Regulus shrugged.

I allowed my thoughts to drift to the subject of my father. My mother had really been my sole parental figure as a child; she had taken my sister and me in for dress fittings, hired tutors and nannies for us, made sure that the cook made meals we liked as little girls, ensured that we had charming and polite mannerisms, and, of course, arranged profitable marriages for the both of us.

My father had done none of these things. We had never had much contact, either when I had been young, or as I grew older. He was always either at the ministry, where he worked as a high-ranking member of the Auror Office, or else ensconced in his darkened study, doing who-knows-what for hours on end. He equally often was to be found socializing with his exclusive group of pureblood elitists at The Gentleman's Club in London, smoking pricy cigars and sipping glasses of hundred-galleon scotch.

If I had counted since the day of my birth the times my father and I had spoken about anything other than my marriage prospects or the weather, I most likely would have come up with a number below fifty.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by the familiar sound of wings whooshing through the air. A very familiar screech owl had gracefully glided through one of the open windows in the hospital wing, landing on my hastily outstretched arm. Strix, my mother's very expensive thoroughbred owl, proffered a leg to me indifferently, and I hurried to untie the letter from him. The owl had been known to bite when impatient.

The moment I detached the letter, Strix launched himself off of my arm, leaving several minor scratches. He flew in an elegant loop around the Hospital Wing, before riding the air currents out of a window on the opposite side of the room.

"Who's it from?" Regulus asked curiously, craning forward to get a closer look at the envelope.

It could be from no one else, Strix having delivered it personally. However, the tasteful cream-colored envelope combined with the familiar seal imprinted across its slit confirmed that the letter was from my mother.

"My mother," I said distractedly, ripping open the envelope and shaking it. A neatly-folded sheet of cream parchment fell onto my lap, releasing with it the expensive smell of my mother's freesia-scented perfume.

Nervously, I picked up the note and unfolded it. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't such a short, businesslike response as what I got.

_Callisto,_

_ You are still welcome in your father's household, despite the uncomfortable circumstances that have come to pass as of late. I look forward to seeing you come the Christmas holidays._

_Cordially,_

_Lady Calypso Selwyn _

"What does it say?"

Wordlessly I tossed the inflectionless note onto Regulus's lap. He quickly read it and then frowned.

"That's it?"

His question mirrored my tumultuous thoughts. I had been expecting tears, screaming, talk of disownment, an immediate dissolution of my mother's marriage plans—the only part of the episode I had been looking forward to.

"Well, there's no mention of your immenent death?" He said helpfully. I shot him a withering glance in response.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

**Aha. Not my best work, but that's alright. At this point I'm just so desperate to produce something, ANYTHING, that even this…whatever the hell this is…is acceptable in my eyes.**

**I just want to take a minute to say that reviews never offend me. No matter how rude or critical you are (And to one of my favorite reviewers: you know who you are: ****you weren't either of these things**) **I will never be offended. Any reviews warm my heart.**

**I'm actually tempted to be one of those authors who brattily states that she won't release another chapter until she gets X number of reviews, but I've promised myself that I would never allow myself to become such a heartless monster. **

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**Therefore, here's what I'm offering to those of you who add this story to your alerts but never review (you also know who you are): If I get six reviews before this time tomorrow, then I'll update by Friday. If not, it could take up to two weeks, as in that case my moral will be rather low.**


	8. Titania Selwyn: A Long Lamented Issue

Chapter Eight

Titania Selwyn: A long-lamented Issue

My first year at Hogwarts melted away before my very eyes. The Christmas holidays—along with my mother's renowned Yuletide Soirée—came and went in a flurry of tulle, snow, and expensive champagne.

It was as if nothing had happened. My father was as distant as ever, my mother as single-minded and focused on appearances as always, and my sister and I were finally able to slide back into our easy and close relationship. Surprisingly, talking to and seeing Desdemona had been one of the things I had missed most in my few months of isolation from my family. Although she still disapproved of my choice in company, she—to my immense relief—mentioned nothing to my parents about my friends. We also easily fell back into our routine of dress shopping, gossip, and her dragging me along for tea and yet more shopping with Bellatrix and Narcissa.

But inside I was different. Although I behaved in the same polite, well-mannered way I had before the sorting, my thoughts were a mess of anger, confusion, and a desire to express my thoughts and feelings. I wanted to tell my mother that although—much to her delight—Regulus and I had become fairly close while at school, that didn't mean I wanted to marry him. I wanted to tell my father that my best friends were blood-traitors and half-bloods. But, as usual, I said nothing.

Final exams went by uneventfully. My negligent study habits earned me mostly Es and As, with my only Os being in Transfiguration and Potions. My marks had arrived by post during the Easter Holidays, along with my sister's. My mother, who Desdemona and I had been having breakfast with at the time, had taken a look at the two envelopes, and immediately handed them to Melissa, instructing her to dispose of them.

Whether or not her daughters achieved good marks wasn't of concern to my mother; after all, neither of us would ever be required to work during our lifetimes. Even if we never made profitable marriages—and my mother would see to it with her dying breath that we did—the family money would ensure our financial security.

Sometimes it sickened me, how very small my future was.

*0*

Summer came too soon. Three months spent exclusively kept under lock and key in Selwyn Manor awaited me. The only occasions on which I was allowed to leave the Manor grounds were if I were going to visit someone either with my mother or Desdemona; usually to the similar estates of other pureblood clans. By mid-July, I was ready to scream with frustration at the confinement.

My twelfth birthday came eventually. I assured my mother that the elaborate ball she was planning was unnecessary, and so I celebrated my twelfth birthday alone in the manor with a muggle romance novel Bonnie had managed to sneak me through the post. My mother had taken Desdemona to the Blacks' house to have tea with Bellatrix and Narcissa and their mother, and my father was at the Ministry, per usual. I was in my mother's art gallery; she hardly ever came up there anymore, having lost her enthusiasm for art years previously in favor of party-planning and matchmaking.

I looked up from said novel as I heard the familiar sound of an owl's beak tapping against glass. The two outer walls of the gallery were composed almost solely of elegant French windows, serving to give the light-colored and beautiful room an airy and refreshing atmosphere.

I crossed over to the window in front of which a familiar owl had settled. I opened the window, admitting into the room a breath of fresh air tinged with the scent of blooming roses and lilacs.

Posy, Emmeline's owl, hopped onto the inner windowsill, ruffling her tawny feathers and nipping my proffered finger with affection. There was a sizable parcel tied to her leg, and I hurried to unload the creature. Once I had retrieved her burden, she blinked her huge liquid eyes in acknowledgment, before taking off once more and disappearing in the direction of the forest behind the manor.

I sat down on the floor of the gallery, next to where I had been reading previously, and eagerly unwrapped the parcel. With the paper gone, it was revealed as a brown shoe-box, atop which a note was taped. I picked up the note, unfolding it and eagerly reading the only communication I had had with any of my friends all summer.

_Dear Li,_

_I hope that you're managing to survive your summer at the Manor. My family just returned from Switzerland this morning, so I'm sorry the gift is a bit rushed. I wanted it to get to you on your real birthday._

_I'm doing fine, although I miss you an awful lot, and I wish that there were some way for us to communicate without your parents finding out. On that note, I have a proposition for you; Bonnie and Marlene are coming to stay with me in the last two weeks of summer. It would really make us all happy if you could come too. I know it's unlikely, with your family and everything, but I thought I should offer, just in case there's a chance that you might be able to come after all. Like I said, we all miss you a lot._

_I'm sure Bonnie and Marlene with be sending their gifts within the next few hours/days, and I hope they help you endure such an awful summer better. I found this at an antiques shop in Geneva, and I hope you like it._

_Owl me back if it's possible, and I __really__ hope that you'll be able to come for the last portion of the summer._

_ All My Love,_

_ Em_

I sat back on my heels with a sigh. Em was so nice for inviting me to stay with her, and I desperately wanted to go. Life at the Manor was oppressive, constricting, and boring all at once. Maybe, I thought hopefully, there was some way I could manage to make my escape. I just needed to concoct an appropriate scheme; as my father said, it was all about leverage.

Shaking my head and resolving to formulate a plan later, I turned my attention to Em's gift. I slid the lid off the shoebox, revealing a nest of pale pink tissue paper surrounding a silver, heart-shaped pendant.

I picked up the necklace centerpiece, and tilted it around in the light. It was nothing special compared to the jewelry that I wore outside of school—pearls, multi-carat emeralds and sapphires, etc.—but I liked it just the same.

Suddenly, I became aware of the sound of footsteps on the landing below. Hurriedly, I scrunched up all the wrapping paper and shoved it behind a five thousand galleon sculpture of a Roman goddess. Then, with the footsteps growing closer and closer to the gallery, I grabbed Em's note and her gift, and slid them both into the pocket of my tailored jacket.

Then, I executed a move I had actually been prepared for; I hurriedly switched the muggle novel with one on the history of the Goblin Wars which had been shoved behind yet another multi-thousand-galleon sculpture in the gallery.

Just as I forced myself to take on the appearance of calmly reading about a dull session of battle-strategy done by several old dead people who I didn't really care about, Melissa appeared in the arching doorway of the gallery.

She curtsied to me, her eyes lowered to the ground.

"Lady Selwyn, your mother is downstairs in the parlor and would like to speak with you."

I hadn't heard Mother and Desdemona return, but evidently they had done so several minutes previously.

I struggled to still my racing heart. No doubt things would have gotten ugly if it had been any of my family who had entered the gallery and seen either my unsuitable reading material or evidence of correspondence with a non-pureblood. Melissa, even if she had noticed either of these things, most likely would have kept it to herself. Even though my parents were the ones paying the wages, none of the help were very fond of them.

"Thank you," I said, scrambling to my feet in a rather undignified manner. "Please inform her that I'm going to my room to freshen up and will be down momentarily."

Melissa bobbed her head in a gesture of subservient understanding. She turned neatly and walked back down the corridor, her well-mannered and brisk footsteps reverberating throughout the otherwise empty fourth floor.

Once I heard her head down the stairs onto the third floor, I retrieved the wrapping paper and hurried down to the second floor, where my bedroom was. I tore the paper into small enough pieces that it would be unrecognizable, before tossing it into the rubbish bin for the maids to collect later that day.

Then I did as I had told Melissa I would, hurrying to neaten my hair and smooth out any wrinkles in my clothes. Once I was presentable, I made my way down to the first floor and from there into the parlor.

My mother was sitting on the couch by the French windows, sipping from a china cup filled with what I assumed to be tea. Desdemona was curled up in one of the velvety arm chairs across from the couch, reading a glossy copy of Witch Weekly. My mother never would have allowed such unladylike posture had we had we been entertaining company, but at the moment it was a relaxed Saturday, free from any visitors.

"Mother," I said, politely nodding in her. "Hi, Desdemona." I greeted my sister, sitting down in the armchair next to her.

She spared me a glance before returning to her magazine.

I turned to my mother, who was still sipping her tea stonily.

"Melissa said that you had something to speak with me about?" I inquired after a moment.

She looked at me disapprovingly.

"Callisto, it is bad form to be so abrupt. You ought to have inquired after my health; commented on the fine weather; asked how the Blacks are doing—before plunging into the heart of the matter so tactlessly."

Repressing the urge to roll my eyes, I did all of these things, receiving irritatingly cordial and lengthy responses from my mother. After a few more minutes of the required small-talk, my mother got down to business.

"As you know, in July and August, your father and I take our annual trip to the villa in Nice. Usually this is not a problem, as your uncle is at the manor to watch you and Desdemona during our absence. However," My mother's lips became thin and her eyes hooded with annoyance, as they always did whenever she was forced to actually discuss Oberon. "Your uncle has decided that he is absolutely _required _in South Africa at the moment for work. This means that you girls will be alone in the manor for at a bit more than a month, and that is not appropriate, especially for young ladies."

She folded her gloved hands uncomfortably, looking as though what she was about to say next would pain her to no end.

"Therefore, I have made arrangements for you girls to stay with your Aunt Titania, in Greece."

Desdemona stiffened as a look of horror overtook her well-bred features. I had to suppress the urge to whoop with joy and excitement.

"You will be departing in a week and a half, two days after your father and I leave for France." Mother continued.

"Mother, you can't send us to _Titania_!" Desdemona burst out.

My mother looked as if she couldn't agree more, but she pursed her lips, obviously suppressing what she longed to say; no doubt it was that our aunt was a no-good floozy of a blood-traitor who didn't deserve the noble name of Selwyn.

"I understand your reluctance, Desdemona, but I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice. Titania has said that she is more than happy to have you, and I expect you to be…civil."

Desdemona slumped back into her armchair, her Witch Weekly forgotten. She looked disconsolate at the idea of being forced to live with a savage like our aunt for two months.

I, personally, couldn't have been more delighted, although I fought to paint my features with an expression as inconsolable as my sister's.

Titania was considered a bit of a loose cannon by the rest of the Selwyns. Oberon, with his bad manners and radical ideas was bad enough; but his younger sister took it to a separate level entirely.

She was peerlessly beautiful; even the society matrons who despised her so could not deny this fact. She was also a matchless dancer and her personal charm was practically magic in and of itself. Her bad personality and societal incompetence was therefore a long-lamented issue. It was agreed in every circle of high society that Titania Selwyn could have been truly great, had she not been of such a pugnacious nature.

Titania had been married—and divorced within two months—four times, all to Muggles. Three of the Muggles had been famous actors, while the fourth had been some kind of billionaire technology-inventor. My aunt had never lived in one place for more than six months. Most recently, she had relocated to a small, breezy seaside town in Greece. Before that she had been living in Cambodia, and before that in New Zealand.

She and my uncle were fairly close; however she and my father had had a falling out before I had been born, so Desdemona and I had only met her once or twice. It was very surprising that Father was even willing to send us to live with her; I would have thought that he would prefer his daughters to be alone for two months than with his irresponsible and incompetent sister. I said as much, and my mother's expression grew even more forbidding.

"Yes, well, like I said, we would prefer a different arrangement, but this happened to be the only one available."

Desdemona suddenly brightened and sat up straight as an idea evidently came to her.

"Mother, why don't Callisto and I just stay with the Blacks? Bella invited me this afternoon, actually, but I assumed you and Father would want me to be home."

My mother looked as though she was seriously considering the idea, but after a moment she shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not, Desdemona. It would not reflect well on your father and me, simply sending the two of you off to stay with the Blacks. It would make it look like our family doesn't have the means to support its children."

Desdemona drooped once more, while I struggled to hide my glee. However, my mother appeared to be thinking hard, and after a moment she said,

"Here's an idea; you two will stay with your aunt for what remains of July, and then half of August. After that, you will spend the remainder of the holidays with the Blacks. It will be more of a social call, and less of an act of charity, then."

My sister looked somewhat mollified, while inwardly I groaned. There was nothing particularly wrong with the Black sisters: however, I found Narcissa to be rather dull and shallow, and Bellatrix to be a bit cruel and gossipy for my liking. It wouldn't be a pleasure to spend two weeks at their family manor.

I would have to owl Em with the expected answer that I wouldn't be able to spend part of August at her house. However, the prospect of a month with Titania in Greece was almost enough to make me forget how much I missed my friends. And it was almost enough to stop me worrying about how awful two weeks with Black sisters would be. Almost.

**…Ok, please don't shoot me, because I have a legitimate reason why this is a day late; I'm actually at the moment in Switzerland on vacation, and so I've been travelling for the past 48 hours or so. I'm not even sure if it's Friday or Saturday in the United States at the moment, although I'm fairly certain that it's Saturday, and therefore this is a day late. **

** My apologies. This time I'm going to set a more realistic goal, as I'll mostly be enjoying the sights of France/Italy/Switzerland for the next week or so.**

**PLEASE READ:**

** If I get 10 reviews by this time on Monday, I'll update by Thursday. If not, then the next chapter will at least be out by the week after next. **

** Au revoir, mon amis!**

**PS: For all of those who are interested, there are photos of all my Original Characters posted on my profile!**


	9. Unfamiliar Air

Chapter Nine

Unfamiliar Air

The air of Aegiali was unfamiliar to me; so much warmer and fuller than anywhere in England. Every breath, full of as much moisture as oxygen, brought the scent of brine and ocean-life to my nostrils. It was glorious.

"It smells like rotten seaweed!" Desdemona complained, waving a well-manicured hand in front of her nose. I did my best to ignore her as the sedan made its slow ascent up to the top of the hill, where Titania's villa was situated.

I craned my neck out the back window of the sedan, struggling to catch one last glimpse of the shattering blue of the sea, before we rounded a bend in the path and the bay was no longer in sight.

"Oh, close the window, Callisto!" Desdemona exclaimed as the sea breeze picked up a bit and another breath of the Mediterranean air swept through the car.

"Why?" I said indignantly. "It's lovely out!"

"It'll wreck my hair." She muttered, placing a hand protectively over her dark curls. I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly in response.

"It's not like you have anyone to impress."

My sister opened her mouth as if to respond, before frowning heavily and closing it. Evidently she could think of no valid argument to this true statement. She huffed loudly, crossing her arms over her ironed blouse.

The small seaside village of Aegiali was too small to have port-key systems. My sister and I had port-keyed from the manor to a city several miles from Aegiali, where our mother had arranged for a car to take us to Titania's villa, in the hills above the town.

It wasn't as large as Selwyn Manor—not by a long shot—but Titania's years of sporadic employment at the Ministry, along with her enormous divorce settlements, showed in the size and beauty of the vista. The villa had two floors, and the outside walls were neatly whitewashed. The roof was shingled with terracotta tiles and the shutters and trim were painted a charming shade of faded blue. Flowers overflowed from their ceramic boxes below the many windows, and the garden was well-kept and luscious, sectioned off by a blue picket fence. To my surprise, as the sedan pulled up onto the unkempt dirt road in front of the villa, I spotted a rather mad-looking old goat viciously ripping at a clump of grass near the front door.

As the driver exited the vehicle, helping my sister out of the car, I watched that self-same door, which was painted that same faded shade of blue, open to reveal my aunt.

She was breathtakingly beautiful; her shining dark hair was cut just above her shoulders, and her skin was flawless and sun-kissed. Her eyes were impossibly large, and a deep shade of brown which danced with the sparkling energy of mischief.

As she began making her way down the gravel path towards the gate, I jumped out of the car, not waiting for the driver to open the door for me. My sister was snappily directing the driver to move our luggage into the foyer of the villa, not even glancing at our aunt.

The gate opened with a creak, and Titania held open her arms for an embrace, her gorgeous face growing even more brilliant as a wide, blindingly white smile graced it.

"Titania!" I exclaimed, running to hug her. For a moment I felt like a seven-year-old again, racing into my aunt's embrace on one of her rare visits to Selwyn Manor. Back then, I hadn't noticed the disapproving glares leveled at her by my family, nor the wedding band that had once again absented itself from her finger, nor the complete and total lack of decorum with which she conducted herself.

Now I noticed all these things—how could I not?—however, I didn't care. Titania was someone who I connected with on a very deep level; a kindred spirit.

"Oh, lord, you're so grown-up." She exclaimed, examining me at arm's length. "You look just like your mother, you know."

I inadvertently grimaced at this comment, causing Titania to emit a startled, bell-like peal of laughter. "It's not an insult!" She said.

"Anything comparing me to _her_ is an insult," I said, although I lowered my voice a little so that Desdemona, who was still abusing the poor driver, wouldn't hear.

Titania lifted a sculpted eyebrow in surprise. After a moment her lovely smile revealed itself once more.

"Dear, you and I are going to have such an excellent time this summer." She said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder with a mischievous smile that made me more than a little uneasy.

*0*

I coughed, rubbing my eyes to try and clear some of the ocean water out of them. My hands, which were coated in salt from the sea I had most recently been immersed in, only made the situation worse, and soon I was weeping inadvertently.

"Ow."

"Towel?" I heard Titania say, and a starched linen cloth was pressed into my hands.

"Thanks," I said, gingerly wiping my eyes off until I felt comfortable enough to open them.

The Mediterranean was a blinding, gorgeous shade of rich blue, and the sound of the waves crashing against the beach was ever-present and almost unnoticeable after so many days spent within earshot of it. Farther down the beach, several fishermen were laboring, their coffee-colored skin glistening with sweat and ocean spray as they worked to haul in their enormous nets again and again. A kilometer or so from the bay, several small boats were gliding along the tranquil waters, their bright sails contrasting strongly with the cerulean waters.

I turned to my aunt, who was looking positively stunning in a studded two-piece swimsuit.

"Desdemona decided not to come down?" I asked, unsurprised.

"Yeah," Titania confirmed, adjusting her large, dark sunglasses and glancing up at the cliffs rearing above us, where the roof of the villa was just visible. "She said she had schoolwork to do. As if." She snorted, and I rolled my eyes in silent agreement. Desdemona had been rude and distant to our aunt since day one, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.

Titania paused, glancing at her Swarovski-crystal-studded watch.

"I have a date at 3:30. I should probably head back up to the villa," She said, tossing her glossy hair over one shoulder.

I nodded distractedly, running a hand through my knotted hair. Titania was always out and about, stringing along one guy or another, or else spending time with her interchangeably beautiful and wealthy female friends.

"Will you be able to find things to do while I'm gone?" She asked, picking up her wand and an old edition of Witch Weekly from where they had been lying on her beach chair.

"Oh, yeah, I'll be fine." I assured her, trying not to sound too eager. So far, whenever I had gone into town, it had been with Titania and occasionally Desdemona. This would be my first opportunity to do some independent exploration.

She smiled.

"I think I'm supposed to say something that makes me sound responsible now; probably along the lines of 'stay out of trouble'. But that would make me a hypocrite, because I have a little gem of wisdom to share with you now."

I raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to laugh. The thought of my aunt being either wise or responsible was certainly chuckle-worthy. She ignored my obvious skepticism.

"You often have the most fun when you go out of your way _not_ to avoid trouble."

And with that she turned on her heel on the spot, disappearing with a muted crack. I assumed she had apparated back to her room in the villa, although with my Aunt Titania, you could never be quite sure.

*0*

I had returned the long way to the villa, so that I could change out of my wet bathing suit and into some dry clothing. As I passed by the closed door of my sister's room, I paused, torn. I never actively sought out Desdemona's company. During the long summer months in Selwyn Manor, I had no choice but to spend time with my sister. But now, with the freedom allotted to me by our aunt, I realized that hanging out with Desdemona was one of my less-preferred activities.

After a moment of indecision, I shook my head and made my way into the villa's garden, leaving my sister to her moping. As I stepped out of the house, the sweet scent of hyacinths and ocean air was nearly overwhelming, and a sunny breeze gently ruffled my damp hair.

I made my way down the winding dirt path which led from the ridge overlooking Aegiali, into the city proper. There were several affluent villas lining the ridge above the town, Titania's included. It was a short walk down into the actual village, and soon I found myself wandering aimlessly through the narrow streets. There was an open-air market laid out in the main square, I soon discovered. Titania had supplied me with a large amount of muggle money upon my arrival. I had been nonplussed to discover that the muggle form of currency was thin, crinkly paper with drawings on it.

I bought a pair of leather sandals from an extremely pushy Greek man with very limited English skills, and also purchased a bag of some sort of hard candy that tasted like oranges. After several more minutes of aimless wandering, I found myself in one of the shadier areas of the marketplace. Muggles in varying states of cleanliness attended to their decrepit stands, selling everything from threadbare clothing to 'fresh' produce.

I was about to turn around and beat a hasty retreat, when one of the booths caught my eye. It was manned by an old Greek woman. Her skin was leathery and wrinkled, her hair tucked under a tied kerchief, and her hands as knotty and knobby as twin pieces of weather-warped wood.

She was selling trinkets and baubles at her stand, most of which I ignored. As I drew closer, it was the silver ring which held my attention. It was a simple, unmarked band of silver, bearing a tiny bit of what I guessed to be glass as a centerpiece. I hadn't even realized how close I had gotten to the stand, or how long I had been staring at the piece of jewelry, when the old woman spoke.

"_Sou arései_?" She said, her voice like paper slithering across a wooden surface. I flushed and looked up from the ring.

"Uh…I'm sorry, but do you speak English?"

She smiled, her lips stretching and cracking at the movement.

"I said, 'you like it'?" Her accent was thick and lilting, but I could understand her easily enough.

"Yes, I do."

"There is an interesting story of that ring," She said comfortably, folding her leathery hands over one another, and leaning back in the rocking chair strategically placed just to the right of the stand, in order to give her the best access to potential customers.

"Oh?" I asked politely, aware that she was probably just trying to make a sale.

"Yes. My grandson is a fisherman: he lives down by the bay with his wife. A few weeks ago, he found that lying about on the beach, like so much flotsam. He was going to give it to his wife, but she refused it. Said something about it making her feel strange when she wore it; flighty girl."

I was surprised by the excellence of the old woman's English; she hardly skipped a beat during her explanation, and her grammar was quite good.

"In any case," She continued, "He cleaned it up and brought it to me; thought I might make a sale of it. So far, it hasn't been the case. Customers try it on, and then they can't take it off fast enough."

She looked at me with keen, dark eyes.

"My theory is that it's simply waiting for the right person to wear it."

"Hm."

I was examining the ring carefully. For as long as I could remember, magic and magical objects had been present in my life. My entire existence was intertwined with the magical world and its various properties; and my senses were tingling then, telling me that there was more to this ring than met the eye. It was enchanted, of that I was sure.

I picked it up hesitantly; there could very well be some curse cast upon the jewelry, and if that were the case, I certainly didn't want to fall prey to it. The woman saw my hesitation and said,

"Oh, why don't you just take it, dear? I'll never sell it in any case, and I could use the display space."

"No, no, I'll pay you," I hurried to say, pulling a few creased bills from my pocket. She shook her head immediately.

"Nonsense; you're doing me a favor by taking the thing off my hands."

I glanced down at the silver ring with a touch of foreboding; it was nerve-wracking how much I agreed with the woman's statement.

**Basically this was just a filler chapter, due to the fact that I'm jetlagged, tired, just went through a bloody break up, and am in general in a crappy mood. On a happier note, Switzerland (Geneva, to be exact) was lovely! Thank you all for reviewing, and I'm hoping you will do the same again.**


	10. Witness

Chapter Ten

Witness

"Don't you just adore this hairpiece?" Narcissa cooed, holding the silken flower up to her luminescent hair.

"It's lovely!" Desdemona said enthusiastically, looking up from her and Bellatrix's game of chess.

Narcissa's suite of rooms in the Black Estate was enormous. Her sitting room was an explosion of cream silk and yellow chiffon, and the soaring windows placed strategically throughout the series of rooms added an airy, bright atmosphere to the place. Her bedroom was an elegant ensemble of ivory and pale blue tones, and, somehow unsurprisingly, there were at least six mirrors hanging or standing throughout the chamber.

Narcissa herself was standing in front of one of these at the moment, examining her icily beautiful reflection while I looked on. Our sisters were sitting across the room, at a tea-table near the windows.

"Do you like it, Callisto?" She asked, training her eyes on my reflection behind her in the mirror.

I was a little surprised at Narcissa addressing me; for the most part the Black sisters ignored me, even though we were living together for the next month or so. I felt like it was more of a deliberate neglect on Bellatrix's part, as though I weren't worthy of her attention, whereas I was simply so insignificant to Narcissa that she didn't even notice me.

"The color looks beautiful with your skin." I said after I recovered from my surprise.

Narcissa, just like my sister, was easily coaxed into a state of gratification with a few well-placed and honest compliments.

"It does, doesn't it?" She smiled. "I think I'll wear it to tea this afternoon."

"Oh, yes, who's coming to the tea today?" Bellatrix asked curiously, nudging one of her knights to spiritedly dismember one of my sister's helpless pawns.

"Oh, the usual crowd," Narcissa replied, dropping the silken flower on her vanity and moving across the room to her walk-in closet. She disappeared inside the silky, tulle-infested chamber for several minutes, and returned with an armful of expensive dressrobes. I moved a bit from my place on her velvet bedspread so that she could set down the clothes next to me.

"I heard Mother talking about Aunt Walburga coming, as well." She said, picking up a cream-colored chiffon number and holding it up to her lithe form.

Desdemona perked up then, turning her full attention to Narcissa.

"Did she say anything about Mrs. Black bringing her sons?"

I was curious as well, but I feigned disinterest, instead pretending to be fascinated with a set of Narcissa's dressrobes which were studded with freshwater pearls.

Bellatrix laughed as she heard my sister's question.

"Are you smitten, Mona?"

My sister gave voice to a ladylike gasp of indignation.

"I most certainly am not! I was only curious."

Narcissa laughed along with her sister, and said, "Well, to answer your question, Mona, yes, Mrs. Black is bringing Sirius and Regulus."

"Or attempting to; who knows if she'll actually get Sirius here in one piece." Bellatrix cackled, directing her queen to hedge Desdemona's king into check.

Narcissa glanced at her sister, shooting her a look which I was sure my sister hadn't noticed. Bellatrix fell silent, looking slightly chagrined.

After a few more minutes of comfortable silence, I decided to make my exit. I had reached the point wherein I had spent enough time with my hosts to be polite, but not enough to drive me crazy; it was time to leave.

"I think I'm going to lie down for a little while before tea." I said, getting up from Narcissa's bed. My sister waved a goodbye to me, while Bellatrix simply ignored me. Narcissa smiled at me as I exited her bedroom and quickly made my way through her parlor and out into the corridor.

It was empty, except for a weedy-looking house elf, who upon spotting me, squeaked in fright and dove behind a polished suit of armor. I sighed; evidently the Blacks weren't exactly humanitarians.

My family didn't keep house elves; not for any moral reason, but because my mother didn't trust wandless magic-users. She preferred to hire maids and butlers, who all needed shaped sticks of wood to preform magic.

Narcissa and Bellatrix's suites of rooms were on the fourth floor of the lesser Black Estate. The guest rooms, where Desdemona and I were staying, were also on that selfsame landing.

As I reached for the doorknob the guestroom I was staying in, I heard a crash and the sound of breaking glass from the room across the hall. My sister had asked about that selfsame door during Narcissa's tour of the house, and the girl had artfully dodged the question. Curiosity had been prickling at me for days, but my inbred sensitivity for these things had stopped me from further inquiries.

Now, I couldn't resist taking a peek, as the sound of someone swearing reached my ears. Haltingly, I opened the door, revealing the room beyond. It was similar to my own bedroom in Selwyn Manor; large and elegant, with the furniture fashioned in dark and muted shade. However, the differences were glaringly obvious; there were at least a dozen colorful, bright, and decidedly out-of-place muggle posters littering the stately gray wallpaper. The room looked as if the house elves hadn't gotten to it yet; clothes, books, shoes, and various knickknacks crowded the floor, and sweets wrappers and broken quills littered the bedspread. It smelled faintly of lavender and vanilla blooms, tainted by something that reeked suspiciously of cigarette smoke.

The enormous bay window overlooking the lake beside the lesser Black Estate was open, and the broken pane in it appeared to be the source of the sound of shattering glass. Standing with her back to me, beside the window, was an unfamiliar girl.

She looked to be quite a few years older than me—perhaps only a year or two younger than Narcissa. She was wearing quite a shocking ensemble, as well; a pair of tightly-fitting, metallic gold shorts, along with a black shirt which swooped low down in the back to reveal pale shoulder blades and a long, elegant neck. Her impossibly long, luscious black curls tumbled down her back in a shining cascade.

At the sound of the door opening, she turned around the face me, and I was startled by how much she resembled Bellatrix. They had the same regal beauty, and the same angular facial structure. They also shared the same beautiful hair, and as she spoke, I observed that even the tenor of their voices was similar.

"Oh, hi. I'm sorry, but who are you?"

As she spoke, she crossed the room to her wardrobe, pulling out a set of tailored black dressrobes. She didn't seem to be waiting for an answer, because she immediately scampered through an adjoining door which I assumed led to a bathroom, and emerged several minutes later, looking like an entirely different witch.

Her dark hair was neatly pulled into a low chignon at the base of her neck, and she was wearing an elegant swoop of black eyeliner on each lid, replacing the explosion of glitter she had been wearing previously. There was a chocker of pearls clasped around her décolletage, and she looked every inch the kind of person I had been expecting to find in a room of the lesser Black Estate.

"Would you mind zipping me up?" She asked, turning around to reveal the zipper of her dressrobes only halfway up her back.

I complied automatically, crossing the room to carefully fasten the expensive robes around her frame.

"Thank you," She said, turning around to face me once more. "I'm Andromeda, by the way."

"Oh." Was what slipped out before I could stop it.

I had been vaguely aware of the existence of the third Black sister, but I had never actually met her before. She rarely attended the events which would have brought us together—such as balls, auctions, weddings, and various other society occasions—and she and her sisters rarely spent casual time together, resulting in us never having met.

"Yes, that's the general sentiment." She laughed, seemingly unabashed by my reaction.

I shook my head quickly.

"No, I didn't mean to be rude or anything. It's just that we've never met before."

"Should we have?" She asked, even as she hurriedly put on a pair of pearl earrings and checked her reflection in a hanging mirror across the room.

"I don't know. I'm Callisto," I finally introduced myself.

My name seemed to capture Andromeda's attention, and she turned away from the mirror to examine me with new interest.

"Callisto Selwyn?"

I was surprised that she would know who I was, but I nodded in affirmation.

"So you're the Gryffindor, hm?" She said, putting her hands on her hips speculatively. "You don't look like much."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, that's the general sentiment."

She laughed then, and I smiled a little in spite of myself.

She opened her mouth, as if to say something, when she was interrupted by the ringing of a tall grandfather clock in the corner of her bedroom.

"You'd better get changed. They like you to look nice for the firing squad."

I frowned to myself as, back in the guest room, I pulled on a set of gray dressrobes that made me look decidedly sallow.

"What's a firing squad?" I wondered aloud.

*0*

I hated Earl Grey. It was bitter, tasteless, and left my mouth with a metallic, tingly sensation for minutes after consumption. But it was what Mrs. Druella Black neé Rosier was serving for tea that sunny August afternoon, so I drank an entire cup.

"What's with the expression of complete and utter revulsion?" Black asked, looking both mocking and supremely bored at the same time. It was a mystery to me as to how he could appear to be experiencing both seemingly contradictory emotions at the same time.

I shot him an irritated glance, sufficiently subtle enough to pass by the adults, but biting enough to carry across my point.

"You're incorrect in your assumption, Mr. Black." I said archly, taking another sip from my steaming cup and managing to keep a mask of polite indifference in place, as opposed to the disgust I was feeling at that moment.

I swept my gaze around the parlor, and my eye was caught by Andromeda, who was sitting between two of the Rosier cousins at a table across the room. After a moment, her eyes fell on my cup of tea, and then my expression, and she winked at me, her eyes alight with mischievous mirth.

I rolled my eyes to myself, and turned back to my tea. As I took another sip of the noxious concoction, I saw Black was watching me.

"What?" I asked irritably, setting down the mostly-empty cup on its saucer.

"I see you've met my cousin." He said

"Which one?"

"Andromeda," He said, accompanied by a put-upon sigh.

"Oh, yeah, I ran into her earlier."

"Were you horrified by her uncouth behavior?" He snorted, looking thoroughly uninterested in whatever my answer might be. He was staring out the tall window to our right, a pensive look clouding his dark gray eyes.

"Tsk."

Hearing my disdainful exclamation, his eyes flicked back to me, irritation evident.

"What?" He snapped.

"Nothing!" I excused airily, waving a flippant hand in his general direction.

He stared at me for several moments.

"You…"

I frowned, raising an eyebrow archly.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"You're so…"

I sighed, rolling my eyes to the heavens.

"Vivacious? Intelligent? Scintillating?" I suggested sarcastically.

"Annoying; was actually more what I was going for." He said bitingly.

"Hah." I muttered to myself, intending to ignore him for the remainder of the tea.

The only reason Black and I had been seated at the same table was because my sister had gone outside to play croquet with Bellatrix, Desdemona, Callidora Zabini, and a handful of their other friends and relatives. I had been invited, but had politely declined, in the anticipation that I would just be left alone. Obviously, that had been too much to hope for. Bellatrix and Narcissa's mother, Mrs. Druella Black, had, in a stroke of brilliance, decided that my "lovely and stimulating company" might be enough to curb her nephew's "gloominess".

I snorted to myself at the thought. Only Druella, a youthful and exceptionally pretty witch who was at least a decade too young to be married to Mr. Black, would describe her nephew as "gloomy". Sirius Black was anything but.

Around his family and our step of society, he was either aloof, annoyed, disgusted, or an unappealing combination of all three. I rarely saw him at school, but I didn't need to in order to know he was a completely different person there. Girls in every year sighed and whispered over him, despite the fact that he wasn't even fourteen; he was popular nearly to the point of unrealism, and was the star beater on the quidditch team, even though the team rarely took on players younger than fourth year. The few times I had caught sight of him during the school year—after the incident outside of the hospital wing—he had always been surrounded by friends, and in an apparent state of high hilarity that few people ever maintain for more than a few minutes.

Obviously, there was more to Sirius Black than the rebelliousness and pugnacious attitude he displayed to his societal peers. And I could honestly say that I didn't care. I wasn't up to psychoanalyzing the moody boy sitting across from me; in fact, all I really felt like doing was going up to my overly plush and richly decorated guest room, and taking a nap.

I slid a hand over my left eye, which was starting to ache with the beginnings of a pressure headache.

"Damn." I muttered as a particularly painful jolt shot through my temple. Without preamble, I got to my feet and hurried out of the parlor.

If my mother had been in attendance, she would have yanked me aside for a very stern lecture on teatime etiquette, perhaps followed by a passionate tangent concerning the importance of a marital alliance between the Black and Selwyn clans. But she wasn't, and I knew that Druella—who was unexpectedly kind—would be easy to make excuses to at dinner that night.

From their oil-painting-arrayed foyer, found my way to the Black's enormous kitchen. Everywhere I looked, from the row of stone ovens on one side of the wall, to the enormous larder on the other, house elves were everywhere; kneading bread on the marble countertops, stirring enormous vats of soup on the stoves, and chopping fresh fruits and vegetables into elegantly uniform shapes. On one of the counters, a brigade of the elves was icing a tower of delicate pastries obviously intended to be brought out to the parlor within the next few minutes.

The elves, all completely wrapped up in their various labors, paid me no mind as I slipped into the corner of the kitchen where the potions cupboard was kept. Dodging an elf carrying a teetering mountain of pots and pans in her thin arms, I pried open the thick oak door of the cupboard.

After a moment of searching, I found one of the many bottles of "Dr. Hart's Headache and Migraine Cure". I pried the cork away from the little bottle, and tossed back the contents, grimacing at the somewhat metallic taste.

As my burgeoning headache receded rapidly, I found my way out the back door of the kitchens. Outside it was a beautiful August morning; it was warm enough that I noticed the heat, but not so hot that my dressrobes were too cumbersome. As I considered whether or not to join my sister and her friends on the front lawn—I could hear their well-bred giggles even from here—my attention was drawn to a small clump of rosebushes and trees several meters from my position.

I frowned, closing the kitchen door behind me quietly. There it was again; from behind the cluster of roses, I heard to sound of quiet whispering, and then a girlish laugh. Cautiously, I approached the garden, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

As a clearing in the center of the bushes came into view, I slid behind the trunk of an apple tree. I could hear two people conversing now, although I didn't dare to peek around the tree trunk for fear of being spotted by whoever was talking.

"Stop it, Nate!" Someone giggled, followed by a gasp and the sound of rustling leaves. "Nate, come on! They're going to miss me in the parlor."

The voice of the girl—for I was certain it was a girl talking—was really familiar to me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on who it was.

"You mean that stuffy crowd of aristocrats? They don't notice anything unless it's worth over a hundred galleons." The husky voice of a boy said. I was reasonably sure I didn't know who the guy was.

"And you're saying I'm not worth over a hundred galleons?"

There was a long extended silence. Evidently, from the sounds punctuating that extended silence, I was interrupting an intimate moment. I considered just hightailing it back to the kitchen and forgetting that this had ever happened, but my innate curiosity wouldn't allow it.

Carefully, I peered around the tree trunk, straining to see into the clearing. Suddenly the couple came into view, and I beheld the sight of an extremely flushed Andromeda Black staring straight at me.

**The plot thickens. Or something.**


	11. Maybe

Chapter Eleven

Maybe

I grimaced, holding my hands up placatingly.

"Uh…sorry. Let's just pretend this never happened, shall we?" I said.

The blood had drained from Andromeda's face.

The mysterious "Nate" was tall, at least a foot taller than the statuesque Andromeda, and exquisitely handsome. His eyes were dark and broody, and honey-colored hair was swept back messily from his forehead. It certainly wasn't his looks that made my eyes widen, but the gardener's uniform he was wearing.

Andromeda, the second child of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, was snogging a _gardener_.

I was trying to look unthreatening and non-judgmental, but I couldn't keep the wide smile from spreading across my face. I lifted a hand up to my lips, covering my grin, but the damage was done.

The handsome gardener looked positively ghostly, frozen even as Andromeda opened her mouth as if to say something.

"This…isn't what it looks like."

I raised my eyebrows.

"It's not?"

Nate's arms were wrapped around Andromeda's waist, and her hands were laced behind his neck. Their faces, both completely white, were mere inches from each other.

"It…it's…we were just…" Andromeda stammered.

She pushed Nate away hurriedly, snatching her slender fingers from around his tanned neck. Immediately his hands buried themselves in the pockets of his inexpensive wash pants, and he backed away, towards the bushes.

"I should…go prune the roses. Or something."

And with that he stumbled off into the trees, disappearing quickly among the foliage. For several minutes after, I could still hear the sound of leaves rustling off in the distance.

In the blink of an eye, Andromeda was grasping my shoulders and steering me farther into the bushes, I assumed so that there would be absolutely no chance of anyone seeing us.

"Listen, Callisto…"

"Call me Li." I interjected, and Andromeda's eyebrows rose. She looked utterly nonplussed, before shaking her head and holding up a pale hand.

"Whatever, okay; Li. Li, you _cannot _tell anyone about this, especially my sisters or my parents. Do you…" She took a shaking breath and closed her eyes. "do you know what they would do to Nate, if they found out?"

My eyes darkened.

"Is he a pureblood?"

"He's muggleborn."

There was a moment of silence, only interrupted by the sound of a sparrow twittering and water running somewhere.

"Don't worry, Andromeda. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise."

Andromeda looked tentatively hopeful.

"Seriously?"

I smiled.

"Truly and honestly."

Andromeda sighed, her facial muscles relaxing.

"Oh, Merlin, you have no idea how relieved that makes me." She peered through the leaves, towards the manor. "We should head back before they notice we're gone."

"It's unlikely that that'll happen, unless they want someone to stand around looking pretty for a few minutes and they can't find our sisters."

Andromeda laughed, and I got the feeling that I had surprised her into it.

"You know, I think we might be friends, Li."

*0*

"You should wear this." Andromeda said, holding up a brilliant violet gown with a hideous pattern of sequins spangling the skirt.

"Oh, dear Circe, that's _ghastly_!" I groaned, horrified by the very sight of the purple dress.

Andromeda frowned, twisting the hanger around so she could examine the front of the gown more closely.

"What? I wore this to my mother's Easter ball when I was eleven! It was a hit!"

"Well…maybe _you _could pull it off."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked indignantly, her creamy brow creasing slightly.

"I think it's the sort of gown that suits a more…flamboyant…sort of personality."

She narrowed her eyes at me, and, grabbing a throw pillow from a nearby lounge, and launched it at me with surprising velocity. I barely dodged it, in the process rolling off Andromeda's bed and onto the floor.

I heard the girl's raucous laughter from the other side of the bed, and fought not to join in. Jumping to my feet, I narrowed my eyes at Andromeda and grabbed one of the silk-encased pillows from her bed, sending it flying at her head. Her reflexes weren't quite up to par, apparently, because it connected with the side of her head.

She turned to me, her mouth open with mock outrage.

"Did you just throw a pillow at Lady Andromeda Virgo Black, descendent of both the noble houses of Black _and _Rosier?"

"No. I threw a pillow at the descendent of a clan of inbred cousins who marry each other too young."

Laughing, Andromeda threw the purple monstrosity onto the floor of her room. She propped her hands on her hips, staring at the contents of her wardrobe.

"Huh. I don't know about this dress, Li," She sighed. "Everything I have from my younger days is green, gray, or white, none of which look good on you. No offense, of course." She added, not averting her eyes from the wardrobe.

I crossed the room to look over her shoulder. She glanced back at me, frowning.

"Hm..."

After a moment, she whirled around, reaching into one corner of her wardrobe to draw out an elegantly cut gown in a shade of vegetable-green.

"This would fit you perfectly," She said, tilting her head to one side. "But I hate the color."

"I second that motion." I said.

She frowned, and after a moment her expression brightened. From the pocket of her jeans—we were, in fact, alone in the house, making jeans acceptable attire—she drew her wand.

"_Transibit!_" She said, pointing it at the gown.

The fabric shivered, and suddenly the green silk changed to a shade of flaming crimson. The trim, which had been a shade of pale buttercup, deepened into a shade of deep gold.

I stared at her, eyes wide.

"You're going to get in _deep _trouble for that, Dromeda!" I exclaimed.

She grinned, shaking her head in denial.

"Nah, it'll be fine. There are so many house elves preforming magic on the premises at all times, my Trace won't even go off; not for little magic like that."

"Okay, if you're sure," I said, shrugging.

"I am. Now, try it on!"

With a put-upon sigh, I slipped into Andromeda's bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I slid off my shirt and skirt, and pulled on the crimson gown, doing a fairly loose job of lacing the back up.

I opened the door adjoining the bathroom with Andromeda's bedroom, and leaned casually against the frame.

"What do you think?"

She turned around from her position still in front of the dresser, and her face lit up with delight.

"It's perfect, Li! Absolutely gorgeous! That color is really so much better."

"Hm…don't you think it's a little too…exhibitional?"

"In what way?" Andromeda asked, whipping out a cream-colored gown from her dresser, and holding it up to herself thoughtfully

"Well, haven't you noticed that it's hardly the custom to wear colors like _red _and _gold _at these little shindigs?"

Andromeda smiled.

"Are you ashamed of your own house?" She asked.

I glared at her for a moment, before re-entering the bathroom and changing back into my own clothes. Striding out of the powder room, I dropped the red dress on Andromeda's bedspread.

"I'm not ashamed. But my mother certainly is."

"So? That's her problem."

I groaned loudly, covering my eyes with one hand.

"My mother's head would probably explode, if I were to flaunt my embarrassing little secret like that in front of all of her high-society friends."

"Oh, I see, so this is purely a charitable act intended to preserve your mother's health?"

I peeked through a crack in my fingers to regard Andromeda, who was unconcernedly flipping through the various gowns and dressrobes hanging in her dresser.

"No. Because after her head exploded, she would kill me, bury me, dig me up, resurrect me from the dead, and then murder me again." I paused thoughtfully. "Well, maybe she would hire somebody to do all that for her. After all, she is a lady."

"Do you really think she could do all that without looking bad in front of her friends?" She said, turning around to check her reflection in the mirror hung on her wall.

"There's no way they could trace it back to her." I said darkly. "My murder would go unavenged."

"So, I take it you won't wear the dress?" Andromeda laughed, selecting a light pink gown from her closet and making her way over to the bathroom.

"I don't know. I'll have to evaluate how much I value my life."

"Well, I think you'd look hot. You might even turn my cousin's head."

I frowned at that, my eyes flying open.

"Which cousin?" I asked cautiously.

"Sirius, of course!" She responded.

I fought the urge to dissolve into tears of laughter. As it was, I was laughing so hard I nearly did actually cry.

"_You can't be serious!_" I howled. As the pun, undoubtedly made many times, struck me, I laughed even harder.

"Why not? He's my favorite cousin, in any case."

"I'm sorry, but I'm starting to question your sanity." I chuckled, wiping my eyes as I slowly calmed down.

I raised my arms above my head, stretching expansively. As I did, the ring on my right index finger caught the light, and my attention.

After discovering the ring, I had taken it to my aunt, who had confirmed that there were no malignant enchantments cast upon the jewelry. After that, I had taken to wearing it fairly often, with the assurance that it wasn't going to cause me to spontaneously combust at any given moment.

Recently, I had discovered an engraving on the inside of the band, but it was in Latin, and was decidedly short, so I gave it little to no attention.

Sighing, I folded my arms beneath my head, creating a pillow for myself to recline against. As I stared up at the _fleur de lis_ pattern on Andromeda's ceiling, I considered the crimson dress once more tucked inside her closet.

Was wearing it worth braving my mother's wrath? Maybe.

**A/N: …Uh. Sorry?**


	12. Scared Or not?

Chapter Twelve

Scared. Or not?

I wasn't hiding.

Honestly, I wasn't.

I was just sitting curled up behind a statue in the Black's garden, and ducking out of sight whenever I caught sight of someone's silhouette in the French windows.

My back was rubbing against the cold stone of the statue, as I curled my arms around my knees. The fabric of the red dress was snagging on the masonry, but I didn't care; I was too scared to wear it in the middle of the ballroom in the first place, so it didn't really matter if I tore it anyway.

I withdrew further into the shadows of the statue, as above the garden, someone appeared on the overlooking balcony. I saw their head swivel backwards towards the light of the room inside for a moment, before their gaze was redirected over the gardens.

After a minute or two, they turned back around and retreated into the warm, buttery interior of the ballroom.

I sighed with relief, and slid back around to perch on the garden's outer wall, away from the shadows cast by the statue's stone appendages.

The sound of clicking cicadas wove its way through the warm and velvety night air. Soft light from the windows surrounding the enclosed courtyard dimly illuminated the shadowy flowers, and the rushing water of a fountain could be heard some distance away.

I knew that I would eventually be missed at the ball, but I couldn't seem to steel myself to make a grand entrance into a room full of judgmental purebloods at that moment.

_Some Gryffindor you are..._ A voice whispered from the back of my mind. I shoved it away angrily. I wasn't being cowardly; only prudent.

"What're you doing out here, Selwyn?"

I jumped nearly a foot, sliding off the wall and landing on my feet slightly unbalanced. I whirled around quickly and was met with an unexpected sight; Black was leaning against the garden wall several feet away, hands tucked in his pockets.

I couldn't see very well, as it was quite dark out, but I could guess that he was wearing his characteristic expression of aloof boredom.

I frowned and hopped back up on the wall. There was a moment of silence.

"I'm sorry, was that a rhetorical question?" I asked dryly, directing my gaze towards a tangle of well-manicured rosebushes several feet down the garden path.

Black made an irritated noise.

"You're impossible to have a conversation with, you know that?"

"You sound like my mother," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling, despite the fact that he could see neither of these movements in the near-darkness.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, which Black seemed disinclined to break. After a moment, I shifted around and cleared my throat.

"So…er…what are _you_ doing out here?"

"Hiding. Obviously." He replied.

"Some Gryffindor you are," I scoffed, ignoring the blatant hypocrisy I was sure I must be oozing right then.

"Ha! Even old Godric himself would be terrified of that sister of yours." He snorted.

Even though I was forced to agree inwardly, I felt the need to at least make a show of attempting to defend Desdemona.

"My sister is not _terrifying_," I replied with as much derision as I could muster.

"Have you ever seen her flirt, pray tell?"

I swear I almost choked on my own saliva just then.

"_Excuse me?_"

Black emitted a loud bark of laughter.

"Well, let's just say that _that _is what I call terrifying."

"I don't want to hear anymore." I said faintly, only eliciting more laughter.

After a few more minutes of—admittedly less awkward—silence, Black spoke.

"So, if I'm hiding, we're back to what exactly _you _are doing out here."

"I don't think we are." I stated grumpily, sliding off the wall with the intention of walking away down the garden path. But Black, as usual, complicated things, by following me off down the winding gravel road, catching up to me in a few easy strides.

"Quit following me." I snapped after a moment.

"I'm not following you. I simply happen to be walking in the same direction as you."

"And you say that I'm the annoying one." I grumbled to myself.

"You are." He deadpanned.

I aimed a searing glare in his direction.

"If you're just going to be obnoxious, then you can piss off, Black,"

"I haven't heard _that one_ before."

I was going to respond with an acidic remark, when suddenly a row of darkened windows to our right flickered to life, illuminating the garden with new light. I squinted slightly as my eyes rapidly adjusted to the light. I saw that Black was doing the same, and after a moment, his gaze fell on me.

I watched his eyebrows shoot up, an expression of mild incredulity evident on his face. After mere seconds, the lights were extinguished once more. I started walking again, blinking to clear the spots from my vision.

It was only a few moments later that I realized Black wasn't moving. I glanced over my shoulder, halting.

"What are you doing?" I demanded grouchily. I wasn't in the best mood that night, and Black had hardly been doing anything to improve it.

"Trying to allow my eyes the time to recover from the color of that dress." He said slowly.

I scowled as, after a moment, he trotted to catch up to me on the path.

"It's not that bright." I muttered.

"No, it really is."

"Whatever." I muttered, turning on my heel and heading off in the direction opposite Black. Defying expectations, he didn't follow.

I breathed a sigh of relief as the gap between us widened. I was on the edge of the garden before he spoke again.

"I like it, Selwyn."

I stopped in my tracks. Turning around slowly, I stared at Black, whose hands were once again tucked in the pockets of his rumpled dress pants, an expression of practiced ennui gracing his aristocratic features.

"Pardon?"

He shrugged indifferently.

"The color looks good on you. I like it."

I blinked, non-plussed. After a second, I cleared my throat uncomfortably. I was about to thank him, when I remembered who exactly I was talking to.

"Is that the first time you've ever complimented someone, Black?"

He groaned.

"Seriously, Selwyn, can't you just giggle and say 'thank you' like all the other girls?"

That startled a small laugh from me.

"My life wouldn't be very interesting if I were like all the other girls, now would it?"

There was a pause, and as I went to turn around again, he spoke.

"Maybe not. But if you were like all the other girls, you probably wouldn't be scared shitless just to be seen wearing the color red."

I froze, my back half-turned away from him. It took me nearly half a minute to school my features into something resembling calm, before I turned around to face his shadowy and indistinct form.

"I. Am. Not. Scared." I ground out, struggling to keep any distress from coloring my tone.

What little light there was in the darkened garden glinted off of Black's teeth as he grinned.

"Oh really? Then prove it."

*0*

"I _really_ don't think this is a good idea." I said, wincing away from the bright lights and soft chatter emanating from the open double doors of the Blacks' grand ballroom.

"Of course it's not. That's what makes it so much fun." Black said, grinning crookedly.

I scowled at him.

"Maybe for you. But when my mother catches wind of this, I'll have approximately three tenths of a second to live, before she hunts me down and murders me."  
"That doesn't sound like the esteemed Mrs. Selwyn." Black commented, pulling out a flask from the right-hand pocket of his jacket.

I did a double-take, staring at the flask he had just taken an enormous swig from.

"Are you kidding me, Black?"

He shrugged.

"Nicked it from Flint a couple hours ago,"

"You're a despicable human being." I muttered. Black only snorted slightly in response.

After a moment, I took a deep breath.

"Okay, fine, let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit."

I ducked out from behind the pillar, into the shining reception chamber outside the Blacks' ballroom. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed down the skirt of my slightly rumpled gown, before glancing back and Black.

He gave me a thumbs-up, still slouching against the pillar lazily.

"What, you're not coming?" I asked, raising an eyebrow ever-so-slightly.

He smirked.

"I'd rather stay out of the line of fire, if it's all the same to you."

"How impressively manly of you," I said dryly.

I didn't wait around to hear his response, instead sweeping into the ballroom before my nerve could fail me.

For a moment I was blinded by the sheer brightness of lights bouncing off marble floors and crystal chandeliers. I was grateful for that moment, because once my vision cleared, it revealed every eye in the ballroom fixing on me.

Usually I survived formal balls by sticking to the edges of crowds, and spending as much time as I could tucked away into shadowy corners. But it would be impossible; I was like a flaming red rose lost in a sea of somber white calla lilies.

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh, or run away in fear as quickly as my feet would take me. I was saved from making the decision by a soft, long-fingered hand closing over my elbow.

"There you are! I was beginning to think you had chickened out!" Andromeda whispered, leading me quickly away from the entrance to the ballroom.

As I exited stage left, the staring was slowly replaced by halting whispers, and after a minute or two, people began returning to dancing, chatting, or whatever else they had been doing before I had disrupted their evening.

"Dear Merlin," I muttered to myself, as Andromeda dragged me into a nook tucked behind the refreshments table. "I can't believe you talked me into this!" I continued, accusingly.

"Oh, please. You look amazing!" She exclaimed. "I'm so glad you decided to wear it after all."

"Yes, well, now that I've made an appearance, I do believe I'll head upstairs and hang myself, before my mother can do the job for me." I said gloomily, fighting down the adrenaline rush that had accompanied my grand entrance.

"Oh, don't be so blue!" Andromeda chastised, dragging me out from behind the pillar with more than a little difficulty. "The night is young, and although you may not know it, there's plenty of mischief two pretty girls can get into at these things."

"Oh really?" I muttered skeptically, trying to ignore their stares as we passed two heavy-set girls in yellow chiffon.

"Yes. But first, we must find my dearly beloved cousin."

"Who? Sirius? He's hiding in a corner of the atrium." I replied absently, shooting a venomous glare at a short, freckled second-cousin of the Flint clan, as he made a show of leering as I passed.

Andromeda frowned, as we swept through the double doors of the ballroom amid of flurry of gawking and whispers.

"How would you know?"

I shrugged.

"Ran into him earlier tonight."

"Ah, I see…" Andromeda glanced at me through her fringe of thick lashes, as we entered the much quieter atrium, leaving behind the buzz of well-mannered conversation.

"What's _that_ look for?" I muttered.

"Nothing." Andromeda said, shooting a brief grin my way.

I was about to make some biting remark in response, when Andromeda interrupted me.

"Where is he?"

"Who, Sirius?"

"Yeah…"

Andromeda glanced around the spacious atrium, frowning. There was no brooding teenage boy in sight.

"Maybe he's passed out in a dark corner somewhere." I muttered to myself, crossing my arms over my scarlet chest.

"Huh?" Andromeda asked absentmindedly.

"Oh, he nicked a flask from Mr. Flint earlier."

"Figures…" Andromeda sighed, sliding her hands onto her hips in exasperation. "He's always been grabby. As a baby he would steal people's socks."

I started, my eyes flicking to Andromeda in surprise.

"_What?_"

"Oh." She flinched. "Forget I said anything."

I grinned.

"Really? He stole _socks _when he was a kid?"

"Argh, he's going to kill me for telling you that."

I grinned to myself, already planning the various ways to use that against Sirius Black.

**A/N: Ok, so usually I have a more serious (haha) ending to my chapters, but I just wanted to get this out, whether or not it was completely done. **


	13. The Year That Changed Everything

Chapter Thirteen

The Year That Changed Everything

In the telling of this story, I've been stalling; sticking around in the earlier years of my adolescence, in an attempt to avoid telling the story of a few of the hardest years of my life. But with pain and adversity comes new strength and new experiences; change. So now it's time to skip ahead a bit in time. To the Year That Changed Everything.

*0*

The summer before my fifth year at Hogwarts, my father died.

I didn't cry. I wasn't even really sad. In fact, the most dominant emotion the weeks following his death was annoyance; annoyance, because the manor was constantly full of visitors come to pay their condolences.

Vases of calla lilies and white roses crowded every end table; witches and wizards shrouded in black lace and silk lurked around every corner, ready to assure me how sorry they were for our loss.

And all I felt was annoyance.

I was enjoying a rare moment of peace; my mother was in the parlor with some of her sympathetic friends, and Desdemona had—as she was wont to do as of late—locked herself in her bedroom.

I was in the library; ever since my father had kicked it, I had taken to hanging around in the library. It was a large, shadowy room, with shelves packed full of priceless antique books crowding all the available floor space. There were dozens of nooks and crannies where I could tuck myself away to hide from the hordes of well-wishers—and my mother, whenever she sought me out to 'make the rounds'.

I had just selected one of the titles I hadn't read before (a gem entitled _The Muggle: A Threat to Magical Society_) when the door to the library flew open.

My mother stormed in, looking as livid as I had ever seen her. As a general rule, Mother didn't do livid (much too undignified, you know).

"Callisto Selwyn! I sent the maids to look for you over an hour ago! How can you miss your own father's wake!" She screeched.

I raised my eyebrows. Now that I looked at her, I was rather alarmed by my mother's appearance. Her usually flawless bun was spilling out of its pins, and there were dark circles under her eyes. But her dressrobes were immaculate, which reassured me. They always were, after all.

I winced.

"I'm sorry, Mother. Would you like me to go downstairs with you now?"

"Not dressed like that!" She snapped. "Get yourself cleaned up, and get Desdemona while you're at it. When you think you're ready for civilized company, come downstairs immediately."

With that, she swept out of the library, her footsteps clicking stiffly on the polished floorboards as she disappeared down the hall.

I made my way downstairs to my room, and quickly changed into something more appropriate for the occasion. I washed my hands and face of any dust that had settled on them from the library, and then applied a small amount of makeup to cover up any dark circles or blemishes.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered how I had become the girl staring back at me. I remembered, barely three years previously, how I had been so much happier. I had been repressed and lost, sure; but I hadn't been the same cynical, disparaging person I had recently been finding myself acting like. Speaking out against my parents had accomplished nothing; they had neither heard me, nor listened. And now my father was dead, and my mother no more willing to accept me than she ever had been.

Well, at least the girl was pretty, I thought bitterly, smoothing my hair back into a ponytail. At least I had that, hm?

I was about to exit my bathroom when there came a tentative knock on my bedroom door. I yanked the door open, ready to tell my mother exactly where she could shove her 'civilized company', when I was surprised by the sight of Desdemona.

Even in the height of grief, my sister was lovely; her cheeks and eyes were flushed red from tears, and her dark eyelashes clumped together wetly. Her black lace dressrobes were rumpled, and her red-painted fingernails were chipped. Her thick, gleaming curls spiraled down her back messily.

"Li…" She sniffed, wiping at her cheeks with slender hands "can I come in?"

I sighed.

"Sure, Mona."

She swept past me, into the room. I could already feel the drama building.

"What are we going to do, Li?" She wailed, throwing herself onto my bed with a thump.

I closed the door behind her with a muted 'click'.

"About what, exactly, my dear sister?" I asked with exaggerated patience, crossing my arms and leaning back against the door.

"About the family, of course!" She exclaimed. "Now that father is gone, who knows where we'll end up! We could lose manor, or…or…end up on the s_treets_!" She said, shivering and hugging her arms close, the very idea of poverty petrifying to her.

"Oh, come _on_, Desdemona. We're not going to end up on the streets. Our family has millions saved up, not to mention the fact that Uncle Oberon is still working. You won't have to give up silk gloves and mink coats any time soon."

For once, my sister seemed to detect some amount of derision in my tone. She sat up, narrowing her eyes at me challengingly.

"And what about you, huh? You've always acted like you're so above it all. But I don't see you giving up silk gloves and mink coats, Callisto! Not even for your silly little Gryffindor ideals."

"Silly little Gryffindor ideals? And what ideals would those be?" I snapped, pushing away from the door and taking a step towards Desdemona.

She jumped to her feet, fists balling up by her sides.

"You think I didn't hear you and our parents during the summer, every night since you were thirteen? You yelling at them about this and that; how all your Mudblood friends were just as good as us, and how you didn't want them ordering you around anymore?"

I fought back a flush. Instead I took a deep breath, attempting to control my anger. But Desdemona kept pushing me.

"Well, you didn't ever _do _anything about it, did you?! You kept _letting _them order you around."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. To tell her she was wrong, that she didn't know anything. But I couldn't; because she was right. As this thought crossed my mind, all the fight drained out of me.

"Desdemona…you're right." I said softly, crossing the room to sit down on the bed.

My sister's eyes softened, and she moved to sit next to me.

"I'm sorry that I said all those things, Li. I really am."

"No, don't be. You were right," I insisted.

Unconsciously, I began twisting my ring, worrying it back and forth along my middle finger. It had become a nervous habit, ever since I had found the thing three years ago.

"What should I do?" I asked, turning imploringly to my older sister. It was a rare occasion that I asked for her advice about anything. But this was nothing if not a rare occasion.

Her thin, arched eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

I jumped to my feet, and began pacing across my floor, the tempo of my ring-twisting steadily increasing.

"Father is dead, Desdemona. Mother is going to be scrambling to marry us off as soon as we graduate."

My sister flushed slightly at the mention of marriage. I think she was still sore from the insult of her fiancé running away from home last year, thus ending any matrimonial prospects.

"I don't…I'm not happy with that anymore. Not that I ever was, but I'm no longer going to stand by and let Mother move me around like a chess piece."

"What are you saying, Li? There's nothing you can do. Mother has her own plans for us. She always has."

"I could…I don't know! Talk to her; reason with her."

"She won't listen, Li, and you know it." Desdemona said, sounding more tired and lackluster than I had ever heard her. What had happened to the wildly carefree, irrepressible beauty my sister had been? What had happened to the girl who gave out kisses like party favors, and cried as a bi-weekly occurrence? She had been replaced with a world-weary young woman who sighed more than she laughed.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who had changed.

And it was then that I had it: _The Epiphany_. Although my father's death was the event that set it all in motion, The Epiphany was what really began my journey.

I halted in the middle of the silken rug, my left hand dropping away from my ring, and my resolve hardening.

"I have to leave, Desdemona."

My sister's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, 'leave'?"

"I mean that you're right; Mother is never going to listen to me—to either of us. As long as I'm a part of this family, I have no chance at happiness; nothing will ever change. I have no future, as long as I'm here."

"You can't possibly mean…"

"I have to leave, Desdemona." I repeated.

My sister had been moving to stand up, but she fell back down on my silken sheets with a 'whump' at this pronouncement. All the color had drained from her luminous complexion.

All was silent in my bedroom for a minute, only interrupted by the distant sound of muted conversation downstairs.

When she next spoke, I expected it to be words of protest trying to convince me not to leave, or even an expression of disbelief as to my resolve.

"I'll help you."

My eyes met Desdemona's dark ones, and suddenly I found myself doing something I hadn't done since I was six years old; crying.

As the tears poured down my cheeks, my sister rose, and crossed to room to enfold me in a warm, rose-scented embrace. For the first time in years, I felt like a child.

*0*

"Don't you think you should at least leave a note or something?" Bonnie inquired, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the manor, past the eight-foot-tall stone walls.

I tossed my trunk into the very back of her car, and slammed the back door shut.

"Yeah, are you really just gonna…leave?" Em asked, hanging her hand—in possession of a lit cigarette—out of the passenger-side window.

"Yes, ma'am."  
"Let's get out of here!" Marlene implored from the back, even as I slid into the empty seat next to her, shutting the car door behind me. "This place gives me the creeps."

I followed her gaze to the twin gargoyles crouched on either side of the wrought-iron gate.

"Try living here for fifteen years,"

She shivered, gathering her pink fuzzy sweater closer around herself.

As Bonnie started the engine and pulled away down the gravel drive, I stopped myself from looking back at the manor, even as we headed off down the road through the trees.

"So what are you going to do about money for books and stuff?" Em inquired, tossing her cigarette butt onto the road below, and turning around in her seat to look at me.

"I talked to my uncle about it. He's going to be owling me an allowance every month." I replied, somewhat distracted as I rearranged things inside my purse.

Once I was sure I had everything, I set down my bag on the floor of the car, and glanced up at the ceiling.

"Hey, Bonnie, is this a convertible?" I asked curiously, poking the cloth roof.

"Oh, yeah. But my dad said we probably shouldn't take down the roof, because it's night time and it's a long drive and all." Bonnie replied, glancing back at me.

Em and I exchanged a look.

"Oh really?"

Bonnie glanced back at me once more, this time alarmed.

"I don't like that tone, Li!" She said.

"Eyes on the road, fool!" Em laughed, flicking Bonnie lightly on the side of the head.

"Ouch! Knock it off, you guys!" Bonnie protested, even as we all laughed.

Marlene had joined in our heckling. She smiled, her dimples blooming adorably as usual.

"Bonnie, can we _please _take the roof down? _Pretty, pretty please_?" She whined, clasping her hands together like a little girl.

"No!" Bonnie insisted, keeping both hands resolutely fastened to the wheel, and both eyes plastered to the road ahead.

I shot a glance at Em, who rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her shoulder with one hand.

Smiling, I unrolled my window to the fullest, keeping eye contact with Em. Both she and Marlene caught my drift, and they both followed suit. As we pulled onto the main thoroughfare, which was filled with a decent number of cars—muggles, no doubt headed home after a day's work—I stuck my head out the open window, and the majority of my upper body followed suit. As we accelerated, my hair flew out of its neat bun, and exploded into a flurry of curls and strands to whip at my face and neck.

I glanced over to my left, and grinned even wider when I saw that Marlene was hanging out of her window as well. Her blond bob was flying every which way, and her cheeks were already flushed from the cool air whipping by.

Em was just leaning out of her own window, her ebony curls beginning to stir with the wind, when we were all drawn back into the car by Bonnie's screech of protest.

"_Guys!_ You're going to give me a heart attack!"

With a single jerk of her left hand, she sent the car screeching to a halt off to the side of the road.

"Ok. Get out." Bonnie growled.

"What? Bonnie, come on, we were just messing around!" Marlene pouted, even as—following our friend's continuing urging—we all got out of her car, shutting the doors behind us with muted 'clunk's.

But Bonnie wasn't kicking us out of the car. As Em disentangled herself from her seatbelt, Bonnie hit a button on the dashboard, and the cloth roof detached from the windshield, and slowly descended backwards, baring the car to the warm summer air.

Marlene let out a whoop of delight, jumping up and down, and clapping her hands together like a kid on Christmas. Em grinned, her red lipstick catching a shine from the headlights of a passing car.

We all hopped back into the car, not bothering with doors this time, and Em cranked up the stereo so loud I could barely hear myself think.

Generally, in our group dynamic, Bonnie and I were the sensible ones, and Em and Marlene were always getting into mischief. Marlene got into trouble because she was the kind of cute girl who boys liked, and who loved to dance. Em got into trouble because she was the kind of girl who liked to smoke cigarettes and drink whiskey and wear red lipstick. But one sensible one seemed like enough for the group, and right now, I felt like the kind of girl who liked to do stupid things too.

Grinning at Marlene, even as she giggled and screeched for me to be careful, I stood up on the middle seat between us, quickly rising above the part of the car shielded from the gusts. As the wind grabbed my hair and sent it streaming back behind me, I raised my hands above my head and yelled.

I yelled as loudly as I could, in the most bawdy and uncouth manner possible, and it was the best thing I'd ever felt in my life.

"_Freedom!_"

**(A/N: Merry Christmas, kiddos! Now, it's been quite some time since I've updated Dollhouse. There are many reasons for this; first of all, finals—my first high school finals are all done, thank God!—and more importantly, the fact that I had grown rather bored with this story. I intended the bulk of the story to take place when Li was in her fifth year, as you see in Chapter 13. I got too caught up in exposition, and I'm ready for the story to really start picking up steam. **

**In this chapter, we also see a different Li emerge from her cocoon; Li was not the character I wanted her to be, in earlier chapters: she was almost there, but not quite. I would like to call this the beginning of Part II of Dollhouse, because it's where the story really makes a transformation. You will see a lot of changes in characters, a lot more romance, and more Hogwarts time, which is something that has been lacking from the fic so far. Starting with this chapter, Dollhouse is beginning to become the story I imagined it as many moons ago. Please drop a review and tell me if you think the transition was too jarring—I realize it was abrupt and could probably use some grooming. I just knew that if I stuck with the story as it was, I would abandon it completely. Something had to change. More to come. And soon! Love, Silk.)**


	14. New Beginnings

Chapter Fourteen

New Beginnings

My eyes fluttered open to the pale gray of dawn light. I considered rolling over onto my stomach to try and catch a final few minutes of sleep. But suddenly, with a jolt, I realized that it was September 1st.

I sat up, yawning widely, and running a hand over my face. As I did, I glanced over at the bed next to me, where Em's sleeping form was buried under a pile of blankets. I slid out of bed, swaying side to side as I did so, and wincing at the sound of my spine cracking.

My trunk was lying at the foot of the bed, and I sifted through it for a few minutes, before digging out a gray jumper and a pair of threadbare jeans, which I quickly changed into. I left my trunk open, and proceeded to rearrange the stacks of clothing, and double-check that I had everything I needed.

We had been staying at Bonnie's for the past two weeks, and my belongings were still mostly together from when I had packed them back at the manor. It only took me a few minutes to get everything organized.

By the time I had finished, the morning light was beginning to grow warmer and more substantial.

A bar of light, peeking from between a gap in the curtains, had fallen upon Em's pillow, and as my friend shifted slightly, she was assaulted head-on by the ray of sunshine.

"Argh!" She groaned, burrowing her head beneath the protective cover of her pillow.

I grinned, and crossed the room to wrench the pillow from her sleep-clumsy grip. She protested, even as proceeded to rip the blanket from her bed with a flourish.

"Fuck off!" She exclaimed, curling in on herself in the warm hollow still left in her bed.

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine." I said dryly, tossing her bedclothes onto the floor, and hopping over her to pull aside the curtains covering the window.

Bonnie lived just outside of London, in an almost exclusively magical suburb; the view onto her front lawn was beautiful, revealing a garden of lush flowers below, and the front of the graceful Victorian across the street.

As the full measure of early morning light fell upon Em, she sat up with a groan.

"I _really _dislike you, Li." She grimaced, rubbing her eyes with one well-manicured hand.

I grinned, stretching my arms over my head.

"It's a lovely new day! Get up and enjoy the sunshine!" I exclaimed loudly, only half joking.

Em fixed me with a baleful eye, grabbing the hairbrush on her bedside table and beginning to work it through her tangled black waves.

"This new cheery attitude of yours is quite annoying." She said sourly.

I laughed, even on my way out of the room, leaving Em to slowly wake herself up fully.

As I made my way down the hall to Bonnie's room, which she had been sharing with Marlene, I contemplated what Em had dubbed my 'new cheery attitude'. In the past two weeks, I had felt more carefree, light and willing to laugh than I had in years.

It was positively unnerving.

Smiling slightly, I burst into Bonnie's room, being sure to make as much noise as possible. I was rather disappointed by the sight that greeted me; Bonnie was up, washed, and dressed. Her long dark hair was blow-dried and straightened, and she was wearing a light, flattering layer of makeup. She was moving around the room, meticulously folding and stowing her clothing, and gathering up her belongings to be packed.

Marlene's pull-out bed was empty, and the sound of the shower could be heard from the bathroom. I had evidently lost my opportunity to give my friends a rude awakening.

Bonnie turned at the sound of the door opening, and grinned at me. Evidently some of my disappointment was obvious on my face.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Li." She said.

I stuck my tongue out at her, before collapsing on the pull-out bed.

"I'm finished packing. Are your parents up yet?"

"Mum should be. You know her; never a moment wasted."

Mrs. Wainesworth was a lovely woman; what I had always imagined a real mother was like. She was always baking, doing laundry, scolding her children for various misdemeanors, and generally exuding warmth and cheer.

"I'll go help her with breakfast, then." I said, getting up and stretching.

Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"I'm pretty sure she likes you better than me." She muttered, and I laughed, skipping out of the room as Bonnie continued muttering to herself.

I made my way down into the Wainesworths' kitchen, which was a cozy—if rather disorganized—room, which always smelled faintly of blueberry muffins. At the moment, that ever-present scent was overlaid with the smell of frying bacon.

Mrs. Wainesworth was nowhere in sight, and I was about to call out, when the woman came flying into view, brandishing her wand at the pan of bacon, sending the strips of cooked meat flying onto a pre-arranged paper towel lying on the counter. Moments later, another flick of her wand had sent a dozen uncooked strips into the pan with a sizzle, and she was onto the dishes, charming them into beginning to clean themselves. As she tucked her wand into her apron, and bustled over to a loaf of bread sitting on the counter, she seemed to notice me for the first time.

"Oh! Good morning, darling!" She sang, tossing several pieces of bread into a muggle device called a 'toaster'.

"Good morning, Mrs. Wainesworth." I said, smiling at the woman's antics. Bonnie was right; never a moment wasted. "I was just wondering if you needed any help with breakfast. I've already finished packing."

"Oh, thank you dear, that's very sweet, but I'm nearly done as it is. If you could just go and wake Silas up, that would be a great help."

"Um...sure."

I was a little apprehensive. Dragging Bonnie, Marlene, and Em out of bed in the morning was one thing. Silas, Bonnie's older brother—who happened to be rather hulking, topping six feet—was another entirely.

I made my way back up the stairs, past Bonnie's room, where I could hear the girl arguing with Marlene about something, and down to the end of the hall. Hesitantly, I knocked on Silas's door. There was no response, so I knocked again. Frowning, I opened the door, and peeked inside.

The boy's room was a mess; it looked as though he hadn't even started packing, from the sheer number of his belongings which currently scattered the floor. Silas himself was sprawled across his bed, one arm dangling off the side, and his mouth hanging open as he slept.

"Silas!" I called. He groaned and rolled over.

"Go away." He grumbled.

I frowned.

"Silas, get the hell up." I said, more firmly, and he growled irritably, before grabbing a pillow and burying his head beneath it.

"Silas Wainesworth! Get up!" I crossed the room and yanked off his blanket.

He sat up immediately, and gave me a glare that could strip paint.

"Sod off, Li!" He exclaimed, making a grab for the blanket I clutched in one hand.

I took a step backwards, standing just out of reach.

"If you want it, you're going to have to get out of bed," I said, my tone dry rather than teasing. Silas bared his teeth at me, before sliding out of bed and straightening to his full height, which I realized—rather apprehensively—was actually a smidge _over _six feet.

Before he could exact revenge of any kind, I darted out of his bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

But I took the blanket with me.

0 0 0

The platform, as usual, was buzzing. Students calling hello to the schoolmates they hadn't seen in months, parents greeting family friends, and the ever-present screeching and scrabbling of owls all combined to create a raucous confusion.

I glanced around apprehensively, keeping an eye out for my mother or any of her friends. No one worth avoiding was in sight, but I remained wary, even as Marlene clutched my arm, squealing as she pointed out some boy who had gotten cuter over the summer.

"I dunno, I still think his ears make him look rather like a chimpanzee." Em said critically, titling her head so that the light caught her glistening black locks.

"I think your standards are too high." Marlene retorted, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

"And yours are too low." Bonnie chimed in teasingly.

I tuned out the resulting argument, and scanned the platform carefully. After a moment, my eye was caught by a swish of brilliant blonde hair, and I flinched as I recognized Narcissa Black, arm-in-arm with her sister. I ducked behind Em as the two of them passed by, and the spared my friends a haughty glance. They didn't seem to notice me, however, for which I was grateful.

Em glanced over her shoulder, giving me a scathing look.

"Come on, Li, I thought you got over this." She sighed.

"I had! I have! I just...I'm not ready to see any of _them _yet," I said sheepishly, as the group of us all moved off towards the steam engine, trailed by Bonnie's parents.

"Yes, well, you'd better get ready real quick. We do all go to school together, after all," Em replied, knowing that by 'them' I meant any of the children of the high-society families. The Blacks and my own family were just the tip of the iceberg, after all; the school was crawling with dozens of people who would be eager to gossip about my recent defection.

"Yeah, not to mention that you shouldn't even care so much." Bonnie pitched in her two cents as we approached the train. "Just try to forget about it. It doesn't matter what they think, anyway."

I sighed.

"Whatever. Can we forget about it?"

Em shrugged, and Bonnie and Marlene were already distracted by the task of loading their belongings onto the train.

As the four of us all managed to haul our trunks into the aisle, the whistle blew, and Bonnie hopped off the engine to hug both of her parents goodbye. Silas had melted into the crowd the moment we reached the platform, eager to find his friends.

Mr. and Mrs. Wainesworth waved at us cheerfully, as the train began pulling away from the platform, leaving behind dozens of families and well-wishers. Just before we pulled out of the station, and I lost sight of the platform completely, I caught sight of a dreadfully familiar figure, dressed head-to-toe in black, her pale blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun. My eyes locked with my mother's pale blue ones and stayed that way, until suddenly the platform whipped out of sight, and she was gone.

I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat, and turned around, following the retreating figures of my friends off down the aisle.

It took a few minutes, but we managed to find a compartment. As we had been rather late, we ended up sharing it with Alice Prewett and Mary MacDonald, two sixth-years who we had always gotten along with quite well.

As Marlene settled into gossiping with Mary about the boy from the platform, and Em drew out a bottle of red nailpolish, I turned to Alice.

"So how was your summer?"

Alice was a lovely girl, with creamy skin and hair fixed into a charming brown bob. She smiled at me then, looking up from her novel.

"Oh, it was lovely. My parents took me on holiday to Austria. How about you?"

"It was...amazing." I said truthfully.

Alice smiled once more. I was beginning to think that her face was permanently fixed in that cheerful expression, as a matter of fact.

"Alice, where's Lily?" Bonnie chimed in, settling down into the seat next to me.

Lily Evans—who our group also socialized with on a regular basis—was rarely found without Mary and Alice.

"Oh, she's a prefect, you know. I expect she'll be around soon enough." Alice replied easily.

"If she doesn't get held up fending off Potter." Em asserted, expertly stroking her brush across one nail, not even seeming to notice the constant movement of the train.

We all shared a giggle at the mention of James Potter's unrequited love.

"Oh, I wish she would give him a chance," Mary sighed. "He's so good-looking, and half the school's been after him for years. I don't see why Lily hates him so much."

"Well, he is a bit of a prat, isn't he?" I said critically, wrinkling my nose as the smell of Em's nailpolish reached me.

"A bit, but I think he'll grow out of it eventually." Alice said optimistically.

"I'm sorry, were you not there that day last year by the lake?" Em scoffed, waving her right hand around in an attempt to dry her nails.

Alice frowned.

"I don't think he means any harm, Emmeline. He's just...a little immature."

Before Em could respond and spark a real argument, I interceded.

"Well, at least he's not as bad as Black."

There were choruses of agreement from around the compartment, sparing Mary, who insisted that he 'wasn't really so bad!'.

We spent the next hour or so chatting about our summers, and continuing to gossip about our schoolmates. Occasionally, people would pop in to say hello, some staying longer than others, and by the time lunch rolled around, the population of our compartment had swelled to seven, with the addition of Frank Longbottom—Alice's boyfriend—and Nathan Stone, a friendly Ravenclaw sixth-year.

Right around the time the trolly would start its rounds, the compartment door slid open once more, to reveal a decidedly disheveled-looking Lily Evans. Her thick red hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail, and she kept glancing over her shoulder as though afraid she had been followed. The moment she slid into the compartment, she shut the door, glancing around suspiciously.

"Lily!" Several people chorused at once. She turned around to greet her friends with a strained smile.

"Hello, everyone." She said, sliding into the empty spot on my right.

I gave her a warm smile and inquired about her summer. She responded rather distractedly, all the while glancing at the compartment door as if expecting it to explode at any moment.

After a few minutes of this, I raised an eyebrow.

"Expecting someone?" I asked wryly.

Lily flushed nearly the same shade as her ruddy locks.

"Er...well...that is...I'm a bit concerned, you see. Concerned that I might run into...a certain someone." She said sheepishly.

My grin widened.

"That certain someone wouldn't happen to be tall, good-looking, and our resident quidditch captain?"

"Potter is _not _good-looking." Lily said fiercely.

I was about to respond, when the saying 'speak of the devil' proved itself to be very accurate. The compartment door slid open to admit none other than James Potter.

"Evans, I've been searching high and low for you all morning! I couldn't find hide nor hair of you!"

I glanced into the aisle behind Potter, and scowled to find him flanked by Peter Pettigrew, and—the cause of my scowl—Sirius Black.

"Did you ever consider that that might be because I didn't _want _to be found, Potter?" Lily said acidly. "Now get the hell out."

I snorted and turned away, with the intention of striking up conversation with Bonnie on my other side. But before I could, I was interrupted by Black.

"Something funny, Selwyn?"

I turned slowly and deliberately to face him, fixing my very best disdainful look in place.

"Despite your obvious lack of acquaintance with the concept of a haircut? No. Nothing is funny, Black."

Over the summer, his hair had grown even more unkempt, if that were possible, and it was swept to the side carelessly in what he obviously fancied was a rougish fashion.

Sirius sneered, and seemed about to make a retort, when James elbowed him in the side.

"Leave it, mate." He warned. "Lovely to see you as always, Li." He said, aiming a charming smile in my direction.

I grinned.

"Likewise."

"Don't fraternize with the imbecile." Lily growled from behind a book she had snatched from the pile near Bonnie's feet.

I chuckled.

"Sure, Lily."

Mary had moved out into the hallway to strike up conversation with Sirius, and Peter was occupied with the sweets cart, which was evidently on its way to the end of the train. But James had not abandoned his attempt to strike up conversation with Lily.

"So, Lily, how was your summer?" He inquired, leaning against the doorframe of the compartment. The girl studiously ignored him, her gaze fixed stolidly on the book in front of her.

"Do anything interesting?" James tried again.

He was met with only frosty silence.

He sighed, and I thought this was a sign of his departure, but much to my surprise, he moved into the compartment and sat down in Mary's abandoned seat next to Alice.

"Hello, James," Alice said serenely, breaking away from her conversation with Frank long enough to greet him.

"Hey, Alice." He said, grinning at her sincerely, before once again fixing his intense gaze on the redhead across from him.

"I declare that I will not set foot outside of this compartment until Lily Evans deigns to speak to me!" He practically shouted, crossing his arms and grinning widely.

We were beginning to attract the attention of students in the corridor, and many were peeking in, either to greet James, or simply to laugh at Lily's misfortune.

Lily, with no preamble, stood up, snapped her book closed, and with quiet dignity, stormed out of the compartment.

"Ah, well it seems she found a loophole in that one." I said, offering James a somewhat condoling smile.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and messing up the already out-of-control locks.

"I just don't understand why she hates me so much!"

"Maybe it's because you bullied—and then ruined her relationship with—her best friend. Or perhaps it's because you've been constantly and obnoxiously harassing her since first year. Or maybe, just maybe, it's because you're a complete prat." Em said in her usual blunt fashion.

James glared at her, an angry flush rising in his cheeks.

"Hey! It's not my fault that Snivellus decided to be a complete arse and call her...that! She shouldn't have even been hanging out with the creep in the first place!"

Em simply rolled her eyes, and returned to fixing her lipstick.

James looked around the compartment desperately, as if searching for assistance of some kind. Bonnie was buried in her book, barely having looked up this entire time. Alice was absorbed in her conversation with Frank, just as Marlene was consumed in her flirtation with Nathan. Em had made her feelings about James abundantly clear. Which left me.

"Li, you have to go talk to her!" James pleaded, ruffling his hair in agitation.

"I'd rather not get my head bitten off, thank you very much." I replied.

"She wouldn't bite your head off!" James protested.

I gave him a very skeptical look, and he sighed.

"Well, maybe she would. But it wouldn't be as bad as if I went to talk to her."

"Well, nobody is denying that." Em cut in, smirking.

James glared at her.

"Will you shut it, Vance?"

She grinned, before shrugging and returning to her half-hearted participation in Nathan and Marlene's conversation.

I frowned thoughtfully.

"You know what, James, I'll go talk to her. On one condition," I added as his expression lit up.

He shrugged.

"Name it."

"You keep Black away from me for the rest of the year, starting now."

"Done!" James exclaimed, sounding impatient. "Now please, Li, go find her!"

I sighed and rose, acting like I was some kind of martyr.

"Alright then. If I don't return in ten minutes, assume I've been bat-bogey-hexed into oblivion."

I slid out of the compartment, careful to avoid Mary and the aforementioned Black boy. Working my way through the aisle, it didn't take me long to locate the mane of auburn hair which belonged to Lily Evans.

She was sitting outside the empty Prefect's carriage, near the head of the train, staring down at the cover of her book half-heartedly.

"Hey, Lily." I said cautiously, sidling up to sit down next to her on the bench outside the carriage. She spared me a small smile.

"Oh, hello, Li." She said softly.

I frowned. This wasn't like Lily; she shouldn't be quiet and sad, she should be seething and fuming about how she was going to hex James into next week.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked hesitantly.

Lily looked as if she were about to refuse, before she sighed and relented.

"It's just that...seeing Potter made me think about all the reasons I hate him, one of which is Severus. I just..."

I nodded in understanding.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I know what happened. But...it wasn't all James' fault. Yes," I said quickly, seeing her emerald eyes spark, "it certainly was very wrong of him to do what he did. But Snape—I mean Severus—did say that to you all on his own. James didn't exactly force him to."

"I know." She said quietly, looking away for a moment. "I just...wish none of it had happened."

"I know you do." I said, attempting a soothing tone. "But it did. And it's no use dwelling on it. Forget about James, and just try to enjoy being back at Hogwarts, alright?"

She offered me a tremulous smile.

"You're a good friend, Li, you know that?" She said, as I stood and helped her to her feet.

I smiled.

"I try my best."

I could feel that this was the beginning of something new for me; a new year, new friends... perhaps even a new me.

**_GUYYYZZZZZZZ I'M BACK! _**

**_ I've literally been working on this chapter for like 6 months. Not even kidding. _**

**_ Hopefully I'll start picking up steam after this! I really am determined to finish this story. I WILL FINISH IT IF IT'S THE LAST THING I EVER DO!_**


	15. Misfits

Chapter Fifteen

Misfits

I absently tapped the feather of my quill against my lips, my eyes wandering from the front of the room, to the table across the aisle.

Today was a double period, and Slughorn had decided to combine his fifth-years with his NEWT class for a 'special' lesson, causing space to be a bit of a commodity. Em, Bonnie, Lily, Alice and I were all crammed together at one table, while across the way, Black, Potter and Lupin were practically languishing in their excess elbow room. I rolled my eyes; nobody would dare begruge some of the most popular guys in school some extra space.

James was, predictably, staring past me towards Lily, who was sitting directly on my left, while Lupin's attention was focused on Slughorn. Black was leaning back in his chair, arms lazily crossed behind his head, and looking supremely bored.

Just as I moved to return my attention to Slughorn, who was waxing on about Bartholomew Perkins—some ex-pupil of his who had gone on to be a famous potions technician—Black turned his head, and our eyes met.

He gave me a sardonic little smirk, and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like 'Like what you see, Selwyn?'. I gave him a withering look, before turned my gaze back towards the front of the room with a self-righteous huff.

"...in any case, long story short," Slughorn was saying

"If only." I murmurred, leaning over to my right slightly so that Em could hear me. She snorted slightly in response.

"My dear friend Bartholomew is one of the foremost modern experts in the proper brewing of Amortentia. As such, we will be following the instructions in his critically-aclaimed potions text, as we set out to brew Amortentia in the next few weeks."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I hadn't been expecting that; Amortentia was notoriously difficult to brew, and I was shocked that Slughorn would see fit to trust a bunch of hormonal teenagers with an extremely potent love potion.

"Of course, none of you will be allowed to keep your potions once they are completed," Slughorn said, his expression cheerfully teasing as several girls sighed in disappointment, and several boys snickered among themselves.

The rotund man clapped his hands together then, his tone taking on a brisk, business-like air.

"Now, I've combined my NEWT classes with the fifth-year classes because Amortentia is such a difficult potion to brew. For the next few weeks, these classes will remain combined, so as to provide a few more experienced eyes for the fifth-years. You'll be in groups of four, with one to three NEWT students per group."

There was an explosion of shuffling and chatter as friends sought to quickly form groups. Slughorn immediately held up a forestalling hand.

"And I have already selected these groups!" He exclaimed, fighting to make himself heard over the cacophany. There was a unanimous groan of disappointment and resignation, as Slughorn snatched up a piece of parcheent which was sitting on his desk.

"Ahem. And the groups are as follows: Callidora Zabini, Severus Snape, Ella Kaplan, and Lavinia Sherwood..."

There was a quiet buzz of chatter as groups converged and students bemoaned or celebrated their placement.

Em and I were talking about a Charms essay which was due next week, when our conversation was interrupted by Slughorn calling my name.

"Callisto Selwyn, Lily Evans," I glanced to my right, and Lily and exchanging relieved smiles. These quickly died as Slughorn called out the names of the other two members of our group. "James Potter, and Sirius Black."

"No!"

The room was still relatively quiet, so Lily's outraged exclaimation echoed through the dungeons resoundingly, arousing raucous laughter and a mock-hurt look on James' part.

"Oh, my dear Lily flower, is the idea of working with me really so repugnant?" He inquired theatrically, holding a hand to his heart as he rose and crossed the aisle so that he could stand closer to Lily.

The redhead gave him a very nasty look.

"Yes." She said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest and proceeding to pretend that James didn't exist.

As it seemed that Lily wouldn't be the one to get the group organized, I sighed and turned to James. Black was still in his seat at the table across the aisle, talking to some tall, willowy Ravenclaw girl. I supressed the urge to roll my eyes, and instead turned to James.

"Why don't you two come sit here?" I said, nodding to the empty seats at our table; Bonnie, Em, and Alice had all vacated their places in order to join their own groups, leaving enough space for the four of us to sit together.

James nodded eagerly, making a beeline for the seat beside Lily. As he made to sit down, however, the girl hooked her toe around the leg of the chair, and pulled it out from under him. He landed on the floor of the dungeon with a muted 'thud'. As his cries of protest rang forth, I glanced over at Black. He was still flirting with the tall Ravenclaw.

"Oi! Black! Get your arse over here!" I barked.

It seemed that my charge to James—to keep his best friend away from me for the entirity of the year—would be in vain. The fates had it in for me.

Black glanced over at me, and then rolled his eyes.

"Duty calls, love. But how about I find you at lunch, hm?"

The Ravenclaw giggled and made some coy affirmative, before drifting off in the direction of her group.

With a theatrical sigh, Black rose and made his way over to our table, where Lily and James were still squabbling loudly about where the boy would sit. He made a mocking bow in my general direction.

"Your Highness?"

I glared.

"Shut it, you imbecile. I don't want any of your crap."

"Imbecile? You wound me, darling."

"Good. With any luck you'll die of blood loss," I reponded snidely.

Our group had devolved into a bickering mess; we were attracting snickers and stares from our classmates, and I knew it wouldn't be long before Slughorn came over to see what was the matter.

So, I rose above it. I took a deep breath, and turned away from Black, to face James and Lily.

"Lily!" I snapped.

The girl whipped around to face me, green eyes blazing with irritation, as though she were ready to lash out at me just for interrupting her fight with James. I quickly spoke, before she could cut me off.

"All the other groups have started already. Can you please just set aside your hatred of James for the next hour so that we don't all fail potions?"

The girl puffed up as if to tell me off, before slowly deflating as the logical nature of my request sunk in.

"Yeah. Okay. Sure. But don't even _try _to talk to me, Potter." She warned, shooting a venemous look in James' direction.

The boy held up his hands in surrender. I suspected that he was just realived Lily was no longer trying to verbally thrash him.

"Okay...now that we're all friends..." I started, my voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "We should probably start by making an ingredient list, right?"

Lily, still slightly steamed, sent one last irritated look James' way, before nodding.

"Yeah. You and I can do that, Li, and Potter and Black can get the cauldren prepared."

She cast a pointed look in the boys' direction; James was watching her attentively, his expression just short of enraptured, while Black was staring at something to our left. I followed his gaze, and made a disgusted noise as I took in the sight of the tall Ravenclaw's rounded arse as she bent down to pick something up.

"Very classy, Black." I muttered irritably.

He shrugged, not the least bit concerned or embarressed.

"Must I be persecuted for enjoying a work of art?" He said loftily, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the girl's rump.

"Tsk. A work of art? Yeah right..."

"Jealous, Selwyn?"

I flushed slightly, and glared. But just as I opened my mouth to make a biting retort, Lily cut me off.

"Knock it off, both of you. We need to get this done."

James nodded in agreement, while Black grimaced as if he were about to protest. A quick jab via James' elbow served to shut him up, and within a few minutes (and a small scuffle) James had dragged Black off to the cauldren cupboard.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief as the two boys moved out of sight.

"I can't believe Slughorn stuck us with those two idiots..." She muttered, as I picked up her potions textbook and flipped to the section on Amortentia.

"Could I borrow a piece of parchment, Lily?" I said absently, ignoring the beginnings of what was promising to be a tirade.

"I mean, honestly, could he have picked _anyone _worse?" The girl groused, even as she reached over into her bag, rifling through the pack with a vengence in search of some parchment. "That stupid, self-centered, arrogant _twat_!" Immediately upon intoning the final word, Lily growled loudly, and emptied the entire contents of her bag onto the potions table.

Books, quills, sweets wrappers, half-finished essays, and an uneaten apple all tumbled out, but not a single piece of fresh parchment. I was about to sigh and turn to my own bag, when suddenly a sheet of paper was shoved right under my nose. I looked up to see Black, bowing low over the parchment, even as James was setting down a heavy pewter cauldren on the messy table.

"Thanks." I grunted non-commitally, snatching the parchment out of Black's grip and slapping it down on the table.

"Certainly, Your Highness." He smirked, and I rolled my eyes.

"Does the depravity never end with you, Black?" I muttered, scribbling down the first few ingredients from the list in Lily's book.

"I'm afraid not, princess." He sighed. "After all, things would get awfully boring that way, wouldn't they?"

I tsked, and made an effort to block out both his voice, and the intermingled tones of Lily and James, as they picked their squabbling right back up where they had left off. Now it was something about how James had picked out the wrong cauldren. Apparently, this one had a dent which Lily simply could not abide.

I sighed, attempting to focus on writing down 'powdered mother of pearl'.

"So, princess, how's it going up at the palace? Mummy arranged you a nice cozy marriage yet?"

My quill jerked, sending ink spraying all over the parchment. I inhaled deeply through my nose, and carefully blotted at the list in an attempt to salvage the words. Fixedly, I continued writing, although I was pressing down upon the paper with considerably more force than previously.

"On that subject, I hope your sister's gotten over that debacle last year," He continued conversationally, leaning against the corner of the table. "I mean, it's not like she's too bad-looking. In fact, I'd probably hit that, if not for..."

_Snap_.

The sound of my quill breaking in two seemed to echo throughout the dungeon. For a moment I was silent, my eyes practically boring a hole in the table beneath my braced arms. When I finally spoke, my voice was low and venemous.

"I would appreciate it, _Black_, if you would refrain from discussing my family."

"Trouble in paradise?"

He seemed unfazed by my poisonous tone.

_Calm. Remain calm._

I reached down slowly, and rifled around in my bag for a moment, before coming up with a fresh quill. I felt a spark of hope blossom in my chest, as I picked up my writing once more, and Black kept his mouth shut.

But, of course, it didn't last.

"I don't understand why you're getting your knickers in such a twist." Black said blithely. "I was just saying, your sister's got a decent..."

That was it. I couldn't take it any more.

I had been trying, as hard as I ever had, not to think of my sister—or the rest of my family, for that matter—for the past few weeks. I most certainly did not want them being brought up by Black at all, and the fact that he had the nerve to talk about Desdemona's..._whatever_,of all things.

It was the final straw.

Shutting Lily's book, I slammed it down on the table so hard that even the heavy pewter cauldren trembled slightly. Grabbing my bag, I slung it over one shoulder, and stormed out of the dungeon, ignoring Lily's concerned cry of, "Li, wait!"

Hearing the slam of the dungeon door behind me alleviated some of my anger, but my hands were still shaking with barely-supressed rage. Releasing a pent-up breath, I sunk to the flagstones below, tucking my legs underneath me.

I was so _angry_.

But not at Black. Not really. He was annoying, but he wasn't the source of the all-consuming rage sweeping through my very being.

My family. I hadn't thought of them in weeks. My mother and sister, my uncle and cousins, Titania, who, as far as I knew, was somewhere in South-East Asia at the moment. Even my father. Even my dead father.

I hadn't thought about any of them since I had run away from Selwyn Manor in the dead of night.

I felt an itch on my left cheek, and reached up to scratch it. As my hand brushed the skin beneath my eye, I started in surprise as I felt moisture. Was I really crying right now? I hadn't cried in months—years, even.

I blinked, and was about to stand, when the dungeon door to my left swung open. I jumped to my feet, scrubbing at my face frantically. Only three people had me cry: Em, Bonnie, and my sister. I wasn't eager to add anyone else to that list.

"Lily, just..."

I broke off as I realized the person who had come after me wasn't Lily, but Black. I grimaced, and stared studiously at the wall to my right, desperately trying to hide my face from view.

Black cleared his throat uncomfortably, and I heard him scuff his foot across the flagstones.

"Hey, uh, listen, I'm not...I didn't...ahem, I'm not sure exactly what I did that pissed you off so much, but...uh...I'm sorry?"

The final statement sounded more like a question than a real apology.

I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn't see it.

"Okay, whatever, Black. Just...lay off, will you?"

There were several moments of silence, and I got the feeling he had turned around and had his hand on the doorknob. Then he spoke again.

"Sorry for bringing up your family. I know you're all defensive of them and shit—"

"I ran away. Actually."

I cleared my throat slightly on the last word, and rubbed the back of my neck in discomfort.

I chanced a glance at Black. He was facing me once more, and he was frowning, one eyebrow raised.

"Huh. That's a bit...surprising."

"A bit." I repeated.

Suddenly he grinned, and I frowned at the sudden change in his demeanor. While before he had merely looked his usual combonation of bored, judgemental, and vaguely irritated. But now...he looked entirely different, and so much warmer, that it was easy to see why he was one of the most popular guys in school.

"Well then, welcome to the club, I guess."

I smiled sardonically.

"What club would that be?"

He shrugged.

"I dunno...I suppose we could call ourselves...misfits?"

I couldn't help the small chuckle which slipped out.

"Misfits indeed."


End file.
